


feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream

by togetherwecouldbealright



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Top Louis, Voyeurism, i'm going to sleep for a month after this, what is this fic, why did i spend so much time on it, why is it so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 123,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togetherwecouldbealright/pseuds/togetherwecouldbealright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “Alright, alright. No need to bite,” Harry says, holding his hands above his head in a general gesture of surrender.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Louis quirks an eyebrow and his foot nudges Harry’s as he moves to sit straight. “If that’s what you think biting is, you’ve got another thing coming, Styles.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Harry blinks at him before he feels his face flush and inside the marrows of his bones there’s pulses of heat, pulses of fire spreading through him. “Is that a threat, your Highness?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“That’s a promise,” Louis answers just as the car halts to a stop. “One I intend to keep.”</i>
</p><p>Harry is a journalist with a lot of secrets and Louis is the future king of the United Kingdom; they live together for 60 days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> a/n:
> 
> This entire thing is for my favorite person in the entire world, Maddie. You woo me every day and this is for you.
> 
> Also this is loosely and somewhat not loosely based off of BBC’s Merlin (if you haven’t watched it, I strongly suggest you invest in it and share my tears) which is my favorite show of all time… like I talk about it 24/7 but that isn’t the point.
> 
> Extended notes in the end but thank you to everyone who helped me with this monster! All mistakes are my own and the title is from 'Bloodstream' by Ed Sheeran. Here's a reference link for all of the moments taken from/inspired by BBC's Merlin and I have it cut off into 'Before', 'Month 1', 'Month 2' and 'After' so you can check it after every section: ([x](http://lourrynavy.tumblr.com/private/90299216922/tumblr_n7wh27Ke0y1qejjeg)) Also, here's a playlist made by Ivana to listen to while reading! ([x](http://8tracks.com/donnysoldier/feel-the-chemicals-burn-in-my-bloodstream))
> 
> There are a billion inaccuracies so here's a warning ahead of time! I claim to know nothing about the British monarchy/parliament (but again, extended notes in the end.) Also, yes I know it starts off slow but I promise it picks up the pace in the next part. I really hope you all like it and that this isn't TOO awful. I worked really hard and if you have anything bad to say, please be civil about it and not needlessly cruel. Thank you so much. :)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this 120k monster <3

It isn’t exactly easy to explain how Harry became the way he is—mostly due to the fact it’s how he was born. He’s been this way ever since he took his first breath.

What’s even harder to explain is how Harry ended up in love with Louis Tomlinson, the Prince of Wales. The stories overlap though, so it’s easier to explain them both together.

 

**Before**

 

Harry’s never been normal—he’s incredibly far from it, actually. Normal people don’t have eyes that glow golden sometimes or random fits of magic burst out of them.

Anne says it’s normal that he’s so powerful but his sister Gemma doesn’t seem to have the same problem as him, so all in all, Harry lives a very confusing childhood.

His childhood doesn’t even begin to compare to now, though.

Next to him, Niall is snickering quietly and Harry would punch him in the arm if he was any ruder but instead he settles for glancing over at the tissue box. His eyes flash golden and there’s a thump as it connects with the blond boy’s head.

“Hey!” Niall complains, rubbing the back of his head with a disgruntled expression. Not that Harry pays any attention, for he's too busy focusing on the television.

He looks over at the remote which is across the room and in seconds it’s in his hand. He raises the volume so he can hear what the reporter is saying.

“—six months since the truly tragic accident that caused Queen Johannah’s death. Here’s Charlotte Tomlinson now coming to her little sister Felicite’s theatre production! Charlotte, can we—“

The blonde girl gives them a scathing look and one of her bodyguards step in front of her, blocking her from the camera. Niall snickers again and Harry just reaches across the couch, settling for flicking him this time.

“I’m trying to listen, will you _stop_ ,” Harry whines and Niall laughs loudly in response.

“You’re just watching this for Louis,” Niall mutters and scoots down the couch so Harry can’t reach him. Not that he tries again—he's already shifted his focus back to the television.

The reporter has returned on screen, their face slightly flushed. “Charlotte seems a little reluctant to speak to us but here come the twins! Daisy and Phoebe, how have things been since your mother  passed away?” One of the twins scowls and the other rolls her eyes before both girls give her matching bored looks and start walking away.

Harry almost laughs this time too, but he contains himself. He doesn’t even know why the news reporters keep trying to talk to the Tomlinson family in general. It’s clear all the royals have a distinct dislike of the media but it’s not like Harry blames them. Ever since the Queen’s death, the press has been all over the Tomlinson family and they’re relentless with their blunt questions.

The only Tomlinson that is willing to answer questions (when he absolutely has to) is Louis, and that may be part of the reason Harry is watching. Or the only reason. Not that he’s admitting to anything, of course.

It’s just that—the Prince is beautiful and Harry has eyes. He can’t be blamed for that. Also, he’s the first royal to ever be out of the closet.

Harry knows that it can’t be easy and every day he feels a surge of affection for the young prince for being so brave in the face of all this. He wishes he could tell the prince firsthand how courageous and wonderful he is, but of course Harry isn’t important enough to even be in the presence of royalty. He’ll settle for his television.

Louis comes on screen then and he looks tired. Harry instantly feels bad and wishes he could give the prince a hug but they’re on opposite ends of London and Harry wouldn’t make it five feet into the crowd that has formed outside of Felicite Tomlinson’s school.

“Prince Louis! Lovely seeing you here! How are things going now that you have to take the responsibility of—“ She starts but Louis just brushes past her.

Harry frowns and watches as Louis disappears into the school.

Niall clears his throat next to him and Harry gives him an exasperated look. “What?”

“You look like you just watched someone step on a puppy, Haz. Cheer up, you’ve got that interview later today and if you go in all pouty they definitely won’t hire you,” Niall teases and his big toe pokes Harry’s bare knee where his jeans are ripped. “Also, change your trousers. Or tape them up.”

Harry gives his legs a considering look before looking back up at the television. He sighs quietly and then his eyes flash golden before the television turns off by itself. “Will you do it for me?” Harry pleads and Niall scoffs.

“No, I will not. Do I look like your manservant?” Niall sniffs before he gets off the couch and promptly disappears into the kitchen. Harry waits a minute before following him because albeit the Irish boy’s appetite, he can’t cook to save his life and Harry doesn’t want to put out another fire this week.

Despite Niall’s knack for nearly burning their flat to the ground and making fun of Harry’s celebrity crushes, Harry doesn’t think he could have a better best friend.

They met when they were four and Niall just moved from Ireland. The blond boy was in the middle of the street when a bus came hurtling down the road. Harry did the only thing he could think of and used his magic to blow the boy back to the sidewalk. Obviously after that Niall learned about Harry's magic, but he’s never treated Harry any different. In fact, after it happened he had just brushed himself off, thanked Harry, and then promptly asked whether Harry wanted to come with him to get some ice cream.

They’ve been joined at the hip ever since. Now, Niall will still do the same thing, except they go for a few drinks instead of ice cream (although they do that sometimes, too). Niall comes with a sense of normalcy and Harry loves that about him. He doesn’t think Harry is weird or strange and maybe that makes Niall weird and strange himself but Harry will take what he can get.

Niall keeps him grounded and that’s why Harry knows he would never trade Niall for anyone else. He knows exactly how to get Harry out of a mood or when not to ask questions. Niall is the only person who really _knows_ Harry and that’s something Harry can’t replace.

“Please don’t touch anything,” Harry calls and Niall grumbles something unintelligible in return.

When Harry pushes open the door to their kitchen, Niall is getting a water bottle out of the fridge and there’s a smile on his lips. It’s a known fact that Niall can’t even pretend to be upset.

“This isn’t for me,” Niall informs, tossing the water bottle and Harry fumbles to catch it. He doesn’t manage to get it and it falls to the floor with a sad thud. “Weak,” Niall mutters as Harry bends down to grab it and Harry scowls in his general direction.

“Thank you,” Harry replies because his mother didn’t raise him to be impolite. Niall rolls his eyes fondly and walks over to pat Harry on the back as he straightens back up.

“If you think I don’t know exactly why you were really watching the news, Haz, you’re stupid. Taking your mind off the interview won’t help because honestly, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re an amazing journalist and they’d be stupid if they didn’t hire you. I mean, if they’re hiring people like that blonde lady, you’ll be fine,” Niall reassures and Harry finally feels his lame act of nonchalance crumble to the ground.

“But what if they don’t? I mean there’s people better than me and I—“

Niall cuts him off. “No, I don’t even want to hear it. You’re _good_ , Harry and you know it. There’s no reason to be so anxious. Even if they don’t hire you—which they will—there’s other places for you to apply to.”

Harry frowns, shaking his head. “But this is _Direction_. Why would they want to hire me? They’re the best newspaper in all of England.”

“Harry, you wouldn’t have gotten the interview in the first place if they didn’t think you were good enough. Just be your charming self and you’ll be fine,” Niall advises, leading Harry out of the kitchen.

Their flat isn’t the biggest but it isn’t the smallest either. They’ve both got decent jobs and they could definitely afford something larger but this is the flat they’ve had since they were eighteen and Niall hauled Harry to London with him.

It’s been a roller coaster since then, with Harry having to juggle his magic and reality at the same time. He has it all down to a science now. He knows exactly how to use magic so no one knows what he’s doing except for him and occasionally Niall.

The only other people he knows with magic are his sister Gemma and his mentor Paul. In the world they live in, magic is rare and dangerous.

Paul says the only people who still have magic are those who are too powerful for their genes to suppress it. In the past, magic was common but illegal and now people regard it as a myth. Harry knows there are people that know magic still exists because every once in a while, there’s reports of deaths from those who remind him of himself.

That in itself is terrifying. The fact there are people who will kill him because he was born a certain way. He knows how to protect himself and his family using his magic, though.

Gemma is nowhere near as powerful as him and he wishes he knew why. They’re both of the same blood so Harry can’t help but wonder about it because his power is so much _more_. It’s never made sense to Harry and when he asked his mother, Anne just shook her head.

She told him it was because his magic has a purpose, one that’s bigger than Gemma’s. That does nothing to answer any of Harry’s questions and it’s times like those he wondered where the fuck his good for nothing father is.

They don’t talk about him but Harry knows that’s where their magic is from considering that his mother doesn’t have an ounce of magic anywhere inside her except for her smile and the way she loves so selflessly. He likes to think that maybe he has those attributes too, that he got them from her.

In the great scheme of things, Harry thinks it would’ve been nice to know his dad, to know more about his magic and why he can do the things he can but Harry isn’t really looking at the bigger picture. All he knows is that his dad makes him feel bitter and that he’s glad that Robin came into their lives.

Also, Paul. Harry is quite grateful for Paul as well.

While Paul doesn’t use his magic, he pretty much single-handedly taught Harry everything that he knows.

When Harry was eighteen and just another lost person in London, he wandered down to Higgin’s Pharmacy, holding a note from his mother.

After Paul read the letter, he gave Harry a hard look and promptly dropped a glass of water. Harry’s eyes reacted before his hands did and they glowed gold. The glass stopped midway and once Harry caught Paul’s look, he automatically cut his magic off.

The glass fell to the floor with a sharp crack before shattering but Paul just stared at Harry in awe.

It turns out the strength of his magic really _was_ out of the ordinary. Paul told him it had been a long time since someone with magic like him has been around. A thousand years even. Harry refused to believe it but Paul insisted as much.

Paul gave him dozens of books, told him to read and memorize spell after spell. Harry decided not to mention how he could do most of the beginner spells before he could even speak and how he was born with his power. Paul figured that out anyways.

He spent years and years perfecting his magic after that. Harry knows exactly how to hide in plain sight but he also knows that if he’s feeling bored, he can make a lightning storm happen without so much as lifting a finger.

It’s not normal. Harry's never known anyone else (apart from Gemma and Paul) with magic but after awhile, he just _knows_ his magic is different. _He_ is different and he just wants to know why. He wants to know what his purpose is and why his magic is so powerful. He wants answers and he doesn’t know how to get them.

He tried looking at books, researching online and he often attempted to guilt Paul into telling him but it was all to no avail. Nothing ever worked and he hates it.

There’s something about the thrum of power in his veins that made him feel like an outsider, even to himself. Harry wants to know why he feels like that—he had so many questions and no idea what to do with them.

So he became a journalist.

He decided that maybe if he asked other people questions, he’d feel less shit about his own questions that he can’t do anything about. He took some classes alongside Niall at university, even though most of Niall's scheduled courses were completely irrelevant to Harry since he’s taking law. That's something Harry isn’t quite sure how Niall accomplishes, considering he’s the most laidback person Harry knows and law is such a serious major.

Once he asked Niall why he decided to major in law and his answer was, “So when random arseholes try to take you to a lab or something because they find out about your magic, I can tell them to fuck off in front of a judge and it’ll sound legitimate.”

Harry knows that’s not the real reason but it warmed his heart all the same. He has good people in his life even if he doesn’t have answers and he thinks that’s alright with him. He can deal with that.

Harry’s good at what he does.

He’s good at journalism even though he didn’t expect to be. He works for a small newspaper at the moment and he does the music section. He writes articles about concerts and singers and he _loves_ it. But he still wants more.

That’s why he sent in an application for _Direction_ newspaper.

 _Direction_ newspaper is the most prestigious newspaper in all of England and Harry reads it on the daily. He picks one up every morning when he goes to his classes (or he kind of stares at newsstand box with gold eyes and waits for one to shoot out—he knows it’s stealing but Niall convinces him there’s no point in paying for a newspaper every morning and he might as well) and reads it rather religiously.

When he sent in the application, he didn't really expect any type of response. He just thought he might as well give it a try.

He got a reply. He got several replies.

The first told him to send in some of his work. So he did just that and then he waited. The next reply came a few days later, telling him to send in _more_ of his works. It kept going like that until now, today, where he has an actual interview. He’s beyond nervous and his palms feel sweaty and he thinks he might throw up if jostled the wrong way.

“I can’t do this,” Harry says, but now they’re standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk, staring up at a fifteen story building. Across the front there’s a huge _1D_ (because _Direction_ only goes in one direction,  which is up). The logo makes Harry feel nauseous.

Niall rolls his eyes and pushes Harry forward.

Not the smartest of choices because Harry doesn’t have complete control of his legs most of the time and he nearly goes flailing to the ground. He would have fell on his face if it weren’t for Niall’s arm pulling him back by his collar at the last second.

“Stop being such a pussy,” Niall reprimands and some of the people walking by give the pair dirty looks.

“But Niall, I can’t do this—I should just go back. I’m sure Ben would easily let me keep my job for a few more years, I really don’t need to do—“

Niall fixes Harry with a glare. “You’re going to walk into that building or I’m going to call Anne and we’re going to have a long conversation on why you seem to lack any balls. Plus, I don’t like Ben, so no. You’re doing this, be it for my sake or yours.”

“Niall, I don’t—“

It’s clear Niall isn’t having any more of Harry’s bullshit because the Irish boy literally grabs him by the blazer lapels and drags him towards the revolving doors. “Go,” Niall says before shoving Harry in.

Harry pouts but then he turns and starts moving so he doesn’t get crushed by the revolving glass doors before he even makes it to the interview. He comes out on the other side and he gives Niall one last pathetic glance through the glass.

Niall grins before sticking up both his middle fingers and then continues to walk away merrily. Harry feels his phone buzz a second later and he pulls it out.

_good luck ya wanker <333 _

Harry grimaces and someone clears their throat in front of him. He startles back in surprise and there’s a dark haired woman in front of him, giving him a brief onceover with a frown on her face. Harry’s eyes flit to her name tag and it reads _Jade_.

“And who are you?” She asks in a clipped tone, meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry opens his mouth but no words come out. She doesn’t look impressed at all if her raised eyebrow and pursed lips are anything to go by.

Finally, his brain seems to get the message and words actually come out of his mouth. “I’m—er, I’m Harry Styles? I’m here for an interview?”

Jade’s eyebrows disappears behind her fringe and she looks down at the clipboard in her hands. “Styles? The one Leigh has been emailing?”

Harry nods immediately and Jade’s posture relaxes slightly before she nods. “Alright, come with me,” She instructs before she starts walking towards the elevator. Harry winces at the clack of her heels but follows after her quickly.

He takes a cursory glance around the lobby and how it’s pristine in its cleanliness and beauty. There are dozens of small plants located throughout and there’s few chairs in what seems to be general waiting area. A few people in suits are sitting there, sipping on their coffee and reading over the latest copy of _Direction_ newspaper.

It’s all very—very picturesque. He doesn’t know why but it reminds him of home a little.

Jade leads them to an elevator where they wait in silence. Harry bites on his bottom lip and resists playing with his bracelets. Instead, he pulls down his sleeves until they cover his wrists so the temptation isn’t there.

Harry feels underdressed because everyone around him is in a suit. He’s just wearing a blazer over a black and white plaid shirt and some dark skinny jeans. He regrets all his life decisions.

When the elevator finally dings open, they both step through. There’s another blonde woman inside and she gives Jade a smile.

“Who’s this then?” She asks and Harry flushes but doesn’t say anything as Jade snorts.

“Cowell’s new toy,” Jade replies before grinning brightly at the woman.

The blonde lets out a startled laugh before shaking her head in what looks like pity. “Good luck, mate,” She says just as the elevator doors slide open. She steps though but Jade hangs back so Harry does too.

The elevator doors open again on the top floor and Harry feels a little shaky on his feet as he follows after Jade again. They go through a few hallways before Jade stops and gives Harry a pointed look.

“Wait here for a minute,” She orders before she disappears into a door. Harry does as told and he takes in his surroundings. It’s not much different than downstairs but everything’s a lot brighter and more in his face for some reason.

His bag is a constant weight against his side and he readjusts the strap on his shoulder just as Jade comes back in, looking a lot more cheerful. “Alright, Styles. Here’s the deal. Your interview was supposed to be with Mr. Cowell but apparently, he has special plans for you and instead you’ll be speaking to someone different. They're just through that door so whenever you’re ready, just go.”

Harry gives her a helpless look and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t look like that. It’ll be fine. Leigh says your work is really good and I’m sure the interview will go great.” Then she promptly disappears, leaving Harry there with a nervous look in his eyes.

He feels like he might throw up and he has to pinch the skin beneath his wrist to keep from doing anything stupid. He knows that when he gets like this, he could lose control of his magic and he doesn’t want to be responsible for the windows blowing out or anything.

Harry takes a deep breath before he fixes the collar of his shirt and slaps on a bright smile to his face. He knows how to be likable and charismatic. He can do this.

He takes a few step to close the distance between him and the door. He keeps the smile on his face as he knocks on the door, two short raps of his knuckles.

There’s a brief moment of silence before someone says, “Come in,” and Harry does just that. He turns the doorknob and pushes the door open. The first thing he notices is that it’s very bright. Either there are more windows in here or more shutters are drawn. The second thing he notices is that the man he’s having an interview with could probably be a model.

He’s striking, with tan skin and dark hair. His eyes are a rich brown and his lips are curved up in a small smile. It helps to put Harry’s nerves at ease and he talks a few steps closer to the man.

“I’m—er, I’m Harry,” He says before offering his hand to the tan man.

The man smiles before he stands up from where he’s seated and takes Harry’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Zayn. Take a seat,” Zayn offers and his voice is pleasant.

Harry smiles before taking the seat across from Zayn and putting his bag on the chair next to him. “I’m going to guess my interview is with you?”

Zayn nods before sitting down himself. They’re sitting at a table and the setting around them is casual. It’s not like any interview Harry’s been to before and that’s probably telling from how despite his smile, he’s biting nervously on the inside of his cheek.

“Yes, that’s me. I don’t actually work here, but Mr. Cowell has a special case for you to work if you get hired so I got called in to see if you’re fit for the job. But enough about me. Tell me about you,” Zayn encourages and Harry’s a little grateful that he’s having this interview with Zayn and not whoever Mr. Cowell is.

Zayn can’t be older than he is and he’s wearing a cozy jumper so Harry doesn’t feel as overdressed as he did before. He honestly could be a model and it occurs to Harry that maybe he _is_ considering he did say he doesn’t work here.

Then he remembers Zayn asked him a question so he’s quick to answer. “Well, I’m Harry Styles. I’m twenty two. I’m from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire. It’s quite boring ‘cause nothing much happens there. It’s quite picturesque.”

Zayn nods and his eyes look amused. “What experience do you have journalism wise?”

Harry clears his throat and he keeps the smile on his face as he keeps talking. “I’m on the staff for a newspaper called _White Eskimo_ and I’m the lead writer for the music section. I joined about a year and a half ago when I signed up for this competition they had and I won. Writing for them and having that many readers showed me that—that’s what I wanted to do. Like, I got such a thrill when I saw people reading my articles and leaving good feedback. It made me want to do more and more.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching Harry so he guesses he’s meant to keep talking so he shrugs, mumbling, “It’s different than what I’m used to. When people tell me I’m a good writer, it’s usually my mum or best friend.”

That gets a chuckle out of the tan boy as he shakes his head in understanding. “And they _always_ say that,” He agrees and Harry’s smile feels real.

“Exactly! But yeah, writing is what I want to do and if people who can make that happen for me don’t think I should be doing that then that’s a major setback in my plans,” Harry admits and then smiles self-deprecatingly. He knows how to play his cards right and Zayn seems to be eating it all up so he feels pretty good about how the interview is going.

“Tell me a bit more about you,” Zayn coaxes and Harry scrambles for something else to say.

“Er, I work in a bakery too,” He blurts and then feels his cheek flush. Zayn laughs though but Harry isn’t sure if he’s laughing because of him or _at_ him.

“So, you’ve left university, gone to work there and for _White Eskimos_?” Zayn prods and Harry immediately shakes his head.

“No, I work there on Saturdays. I’m in uni right now but this is my last term of the year and my classes are meant to end next week,” Harry explains and he pinches his wrist under the table to keep himself grounded.

“And what are you studying?” Zayn wonders and Harry lets his hands fall limply to his side before he answers the tanner man.

“I study journalism, sociology, business and English,” Harry informs and Zayn raises his eyebrows but all the same there’s an impressed look on his face.

“Wow. Okay. So what are you doing here today?” Zayn continues and Harry feels a smile tug at his lips again because _this,_ this is what he’s prepared for.

He looks Zayn in the eye before he says, “Well, I’ve always wanted to join but I’ve always been too much of a novice. I’ve read the _Direction_ newspaper since I was eighteen and first moved to London. When I saw that they were taking applications I gave it go because there’s no point in not trying. I mean, the worse that could’ve happened is I never got a reply which didn’t seem to be bad.”

Zayn nods and Harry continues. “I’ve always been interested in the world and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to really get myself out there. I think I could do good here if I was given the chance. I’m not really picky about what I write—I can do a little of everything so no matter what section I’m put, I’ll be alright. It’s just that this—this is my dream. I want this really bad and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it,” Harry finishes, folding his hand on the table and Zayn hums quietly.

Harry isn’t sure what to make of that until Zayn looks up, his expression thoughtful. “How do you feel about gay rights?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows together in confusion and Zayn seems to take that the wrong way because his expression darkens. Harry’s quick to correct whatever assumption the tanner man is making. “Well, I’d have to say I’m pro equal rights in general considering I’m not particularly against my own rights,” He answers slowly, hoping that’s the right thing to say.

It is because Zayn’s expression relaxes and he smiles a little more genuinely. “Alright. How do you feel about politics?”

Harry shrugs, before answering, “I’m not ignorant about it, I suppose. But all the same, it isn’t particularly something I’m in the loop with. Of course, I can be if it’s required for my job.”

Zayn nods before pursing his lips. “How are you with kids?”

Now Harry’s genuinely lost because he isn’t sure how this is relevant to him getting the job but he doesn’t want to upset Zayn by asking useless questions back. “I love kids. I’m looking forward to whenever I settle down and have some of my own.”

Zayn nods again and then takes out his phone. Harry watches curiously as the dark haired man types something before he sets his phone down on the table. “I like you, Harry,” Zayn declares and Harry feels the tension leave his shoulders.

“Well, I’m glad,” Harry replies, before giving Zayn his best smile—the one where his dimples show. “I like you too. Especially your cheekbones.”

That startles a laugh out of Zayn and he grins back at Harry. “Thanks, mate. My cheekbones are fit for royalty,” Zayn says and his eyes are full of mirth but Harry isn’t sure why.

“Well, considering Prince Louis’ cheekbones, I’d say you’re an even tie,” Harry agrees and Zayn snorts, before shaking his head.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Zayn mutters and Harry gives him a confused look before glancing around the empty room.

“The Prince isn’t exactly here to hear,” Harry reminds, before laughing cheekily. “Plus, I doubt I’ll ever be even fifty feet in the Prince’s vicinity. I think we’re safe on him hearing me talk about his cheekbones.”

Zayn smirks at that before he stands up, grabbing his phone off the desk. “It was nice speaking to you, Harry Styles. I think I know all that I need to know.”

Harry stands up himself, a polite smile on his face and he shakes the hand that Zayn holds out after a moment. “Thank you for having me,” He says sincerely and Zayn just grins before dropping Harry’s hand.

“It was a pleasure. I’m sure someone will be outside to show you your way out,” Zayn replies amicably and Harry realizes that’s his cue to leave. He nods and grabs his bag before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

When he gets out, he takes a deep breath and leans against the wall as he goes over the interview in his head. It’s certainly the weirdest interview he’s ever had and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Zayn did say he liked him but that could’ve been an excuse to give him false hope.

He lightly bangs his head against the wall, shutting his eyes. He feels like he might throw up again and he feels his magic bursting in his veins. There’s a brief moment of silence before something shatters. Harry blinks his eyes open and there’s pieces of a flower vase scattered on the floor. Jade is in front of him, with her back turned as she stares at the mess.

When she turns back to Harry, her mouth is gaping a little. “That’s really weird,” She mutters to herself and Harry pinches his thigh for letting his magic get the better of him.

He nods vigorously in agreement. “So strange.”

Jade gives him a weird look before she sighs, bringing her clipboard to her chest. “I’m assuming your interview is done?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry confirms and she ticks something off the clipboard with her pen before turning her back to him again.

“Alright, I’ll lead you down. Try to keep up, alright?” She orders and he takes one last look around before following after her.

—

“Well?” Niall prods and Harry groans again, keeping his face stuffed into his pillow. He thinks he might stay here forever—or at least until his phone buzzes with confirmation.

“I hate you,” Harry mutters and he can hear Niall roll his eyes.

Then he’s falling off his bed.

He flinches in surprise before he fixes a glare on his best friend who’s sitting in the middle of the bed. “Now I _really_ hate you.”

Niall snickers before shaking his head. “Tell me how it went, Haz,” Niall demands and Harry sighs, hanging own his head. All he wants is to hide under his blankets and read a book. It seems much easier than worrying about the stupid call he’s meant to get.

“It was alright, I guess. Could’ve been better. I _wish_ it had been better. I mean, the guy who was interviewing me said he liked me but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get the job,” Harry says sulkily before pouting up at Niall. “Why did you let me do this?”

Niall makes a face before offering his hand to Harry. It’s clearly some sort of peace offering so Harry takes it and climbs back into his bed, sitting across from Niall. “I didn’t know you were doing it at first,” Niall reminds before patting Harry’s knee good naturedly. “I’m sure you did fine.”

Harry makes a disgusted noise before falling back onto his pillows, headfirst. Niall doesn’t try to get him out this time. “Stop worrying so much. If the guy said he liked you, I’m sure you got it,” Niall assures, nudging Harry gently.

“I don’t want to be let down,” Harry mumbles and there’s a beat of silence before Niall sighs.

“Alright, if you’re going to mope about it, can we at least do it properly? I haven’t seen _The Notebook_ in ages and you need to restock the fridge with ice cream.”

Harry lifts his head to give Niall an incredulous look. “Why do I have to restock the fridge? I don’t even eat the ice cream!” He protests and Niall shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have signed up to be my best friend,” Niall replies whimsically, pointedly poking Harry in the ribs. Harry makes a face before slapping his hand away.

“I didn’t sign up for this—I was just _saving your life_ ,” Harry reminds and Niall shrugs. It’s clear he doesn’t care what Harry has to say on the subject.

“Saving my life, signing up to be my best friend, it’s all the same. Now please go buy me some ice cream. I’ll love you forever,” Niall bribes and Harry squints his eyes before he deflates.

“You’re so lucky I’m a good person,” Harry mumbles before he rolls out of bed. He hits the floor with a soft thud and Niall chuckles from the bed.

Harry glances at the pillow closest to him and his eyes flash golden before there’s another thud and Niall’s sitting up in confusion on the other side of the bed. “What was that for?” Niall asks indignantly and Harry shrugs.

“Signing up to be my best friend,” Harry answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world before he stands up. He cracks his back to which Niall makes a revolted noise, before walking over to where his wallet is.

He doesn’t look back at Niall as he leaves the room and then their flat.

A lot of people say that fresh air is helpful for clearing one’s mind but Harry vehemently denies this because the combination of Netflix and fruits is a much better way to get a clear mind.

Harry absently wraps his scarf tighter around his neck before rubbing his hands together in attempt to keep them warm. It’s April and it’s cold and Harry hates it. Well, hate is a strong word but he definitely strongly dislikes it.

He likes the summer, with its bright green leaves and even brighter sun. Spring is just a lot of rain that Harry doesn’t want—especially in the beginning few months because the cold hasn’t slithered away just yet.

Plus, there are way more concerts and festivals to go to in the summer. He thinks that this year he might go to Leeds and he’s excited. He also wishes he had someone to go with but that’s not going to happen, unless he drags Niall with him.

Harry’s relationships don’t last long—it’s very rare they last for more than a few weeks and he thinks it’s probably because he’s such a pushover. They get bored of him easily and they just leave.

It’s stupid but it’s alright because Harry believes in fate and soulmates because if magic is real, then they probably are too. One day, he’ll meet the person for him and he’ll take them to all the festivals he wants. It sounds like a fairly good plan. For now though, he’ll buy some ice cream for his best friend and they’ll watch stupid rom-coms and possibly cry.

It’s good enough.

—

He doesn’t expect the call. He probably should’ve, considering he’s been waiting _five_ days for it but he still doesn’t. He’s nearly half asleep when it comes even though it’s three in the afternoon. Niall is passed out on their sofa and _Love Actually_ is playing for the third time that week.

“Hello?” Harry says into the phone and Niall kicks him in the thigh, before rolling over and burying his head further into the couch cushions.

“Hello, is this Harry Styles speaking?” A pleasant female voice asks on the other line and Harry quickly straightens up, pushing Niall’s legs off of him.

“Yes, this is him,” Harry confirms, reaching up to rub his eyes. He refrains from yawning because he thinks this call might actually be important and he doesn’t want to mess anything up.

“Great! This Jesy from _Direction_ and I just wanted to let you know that we have a position open for you, if you still want it,” She informs and Harry’s mouth falls open.

“You—really?” He wonders and books start to fall off the shelves of a bookshelf next to him. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself under control. Niall isn’t the only one who accidentally sets fire to their flat.

“Yes, Mr. Styles! We would be honored if you would join our staff. I’ll send you the necessary emails in a few minutes if you’d like job,” She says and Harry feels his eyes bulge.

“I—yes! I would love the position. Thank you so much,” Harry answers and he hopes that his excitement doesn’t come through but it seems it does because Jesy laughs on the other line.

“Alright then. I’ll email you right now. I hope you have a lovely day, Mr. Styles,” She says and Harry nods before realizing she can’t see him.

“You too! Thank you so much, honestly,” He says and she laughs again.

“It’s no problem,” She replies and then there’s a brief moment of silence before she says, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

“Goodby—“ The line cuts off and Harry lowers his phone, staring blankly at it. When his phone buzzes again, he nearly falls off the couch. He looks down at it and it says he has a new email.

That’s when it sinks in.

“Niall, you need to get up right _now_ ,” Harry insists, shaking the older boy who shoots up in surprise, eyes wide.

“What? Why? Is someone robbing us? Use your magic!” Niall yells, holding up a pillow and looking around in panic. Then when he realizes no one else is there, he drops the pillow dejectedly. “We’re not being robbed. Why the fuck did you wake me up?” Niall complains, falling back on to the couch and Harry shakes his head.

“I got the job, Niall. I did it. I got the _job_ ,” Harry exclaims and Niall blinks at him twice in surprise before he jumps on top of Harry.

“That’s my son! I fucking told you, you tosser! Who’s always right? I’m always right!” Niall declares, all the while hugging Harry so tightly he can’t breathe.

Harry thinks he’s possibly shaking in disbelief and he can’t feel his legs but there’s a huge grin on his lips that’s threatening to split his face right in half.

It feels unreal because this is _Direction_ newspaper. It’s the newspaper he reads every single morning before he does anything else. It’s the newspaper millions of people read every single day and he’s going to be working for them.

He thinks he might explode with the amount of giddiness he feels and he knows he looks stupid with this ridiculous smile on his face but the only person around to judge him is Niall and he’s too busy hugging him so that isn’t a problem.

“Niall, am I dreaming?” Harry breathes out and the blond boy shakes his head, grinning.

“Afraid not, Haz,” Niall answers and then he continues to hug Harry like his life depends on it. Harry thinks his life probably does because Niall is only thing keeping his magic from blasting out of him.

His magic is like a person of its own and right now, the burn in his veins feels really _good_. It’s a different burn from usual—it’s much stronger and it feels like his magic is telling him something but he isn’t sure what. He felt the same burn when he saved Niall’s life and the same burn the day he moved to London.

Secretly, Harry thinks that his magic burns like that because he’s following Fate’s orders but he doesn’t tell anyone that.

He ignores the burn and settles on hugging Niall back for the time being.

—

Harry meets Simon Cowell on a Wednesday.

He’s in his new office, marveling at the fact he even has an office when someone knocks quietly on his door. It occurs to him that he’s the one who has to give permission for the person on the other side to come in because _this is his office_.

There’s an irremovable smile on his face when he says, “Come in!”

The door opens and there’s a man standing in his doorway. He’s probably in his late forties or early fifties and the moment he sees him, he makes Harry want to crawl under the desk.

“Hi, Harry. I’m Simon, your boss or otherwise known as the editor-in-chief and CEO of _Direction_ newspaper,” The man introduces, before taking a seat in the chair in front of Harry’s desk.

Harry swallows nervously before nodding. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Harry replies in his sincerest tone.

Simon’s blank expression doesn’t change as he leans back in his seat. “There isn’t a lot that gets past me, Harry. I guess you could say I know everything there is to know. It’s like magic,” The man says and Harry stills in surprise.

He meets Simon’s eyes carefully but there’s nothing there to suggest that he knows about Harry’s magic. “It must be hard to run such a successful company,” Harry comments, changing the subject the best that he can.

Simon narrows his eyes and Harry is worried for a second but it quickly passes when the man nods. “A lot of hard work and dedication went into the foundation of this company. Our employees are the best. Are you going to be one of the best, Harry?”

Harry gives the man a crooked smile before he says, “I aim to be.” He hopes he doesn’t come off as nervous as he feels. His palms feel sweaty and he presses them against his thighs to keep from getting distracted by them.

“Live up to that,” Simon instructs, before the man sits up straighter. “I’m here to inform you of your first assignment. I can’t disclose anything yet but start research on the royal family and then after you’ve done that, look into the Parliament.”

Harry doesn’t ask questions—he just nods because he feels like his heart might beat out of his chest if he doesn’t do everything the man is asking.

“Also, loosen up. If you can come in to work in ripped jeans and a ratty t-shirt then you can definitely look a little more relaxed,” Simon says and his expression finally twitches with the flickers of exasperation.

Harry nods again and Simon rolls his eyes before standing up. “Breathe, Harry,” Simon reminds before he turns around and leaves, closing the door behind him. Harry stares after him a moment before he lets out a breath he didn’t even know that he was holding in.

Then he remembers what Simon asked him to do and a giddy feeling starts to run through him. He has to do research on the royal family—that can only mean one thing in Harry’s mind but he doesn’t let himself hope because the odds that he’ll be interviewing Prince Louis are slim to none and there’s no point in kidding himself only to be disappointed later.

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Simon says, _Without hope, you would not be where you are, young warlock. How small you are for such a great destiny._

Harry flinches in surprise but there’s no one there and Simon isn’t anywhere in the vicinity. He shakes his head as if that’ll clear his mind except that the voice is already gone and only Harry’s thoughts plague his mind.

He takes a deep breath, lightly slapping himself on the cheek before he reaches for his water bottle and takes a sip. Once he feels okay to breathe again, he turns on his laptop.

In a matter of minutes, he’s on Google and he takes his time to type in _the Tomlinson family_.

There’s about a billion search results and he starts with Wikipedia because despite what everyone says about it being unreliable, every single journalist in the entire world uses it (mostly for the links at the bottom, but it’s the thought that counts).

From there, it’s easy.

When he gets home that night, he watches a few extra interviews with Louis Tomlinson because he can and also because if Niall teases him, he can honestly say it’s for work. He quite likes the first day of his new job.

The second day goes in a similar fashion. He’s looking through information about Queen Johannah’s untimely death when Simon pops in again.

“How is the research going?” Simon asks and Harry has to bite his tongue from saying _do you check up on all your new employees or did I just get particularly unlucky?_

He’s not usually this rude, he swears. It’s just something about Simon has him feeling very defensive and his feelings are usually spot on so he’ll stick with being defensive, even if it makes him seems strange.

“It’s going well, sir,” Harry answers, nodding towards a pile of papers on his desk. Simon raises an eyebrow before he sits down in the chair that he preoccupied the previous day.

“Interesting,” Simon murmurs and Harry feels a flash of heat that warns him his magic is feeling a bit overzealous today. “Learn anything of particular intrigue yet?”

“Not yet, sir,” Harry replies before shrugging. “I’ve just been doing general background research and watching a few press conferences.”

Simon hums in reply before he motions towards the stack of papers. “Is this all research?”

Harry nods, before reaching over to grab one of the sheets. “Mainly on Queen Johannah,” Harry informs and Simon’s lips press into a firm line but his eyes are kind and not intimidating for once.

“Alright. Keep up the good work. Also, I suggest you start looking into human rights and equality,” Simon advises before he leaves. Harry stares after him in a mixture of relief and confusion.

The voice from the day before murmurs, _In a world where everyone is equal, you do not have to hide, young warlock. But as it is, prejudice is a hard thing to overcome_.

Harry isn’t sure what to make of _that_ so he firmly ignores it, putting it off as his imagination before he continues on his research. He thinks he’s doing a pretty bang up job. It could be a lot worse, all things considered. He hasn’t got fired yet and that’s miraculous in itself.

He also hasn’t broken anything else with his power, so he thanks his magic for small gifts.

Simon doesn’t stop checking up on him. It goes on for a week, with the man coming in every day just a little after Harry’s lunch break to ask how his work is going.

It’s a little weird and he asks one of his co-workers Ed if that’s something that Simon does. Of course, Ed just gives him a bewildered look and says Simon rarely speaks to any of the employees. Harry thinks he should be more surprised but he isn’t.

Also, he thinks that Simon knows more than he lets on.

He catches the man staring at him with a thoughtful expression often and it makes his skin prickle because there’s no way that his boss could _know_ he has magic. There’s nothing written on his forehead that declares it so he’s most likely just being paranoid.

But when Simon says things like, “Knowledge is power and power is a gift. It comes from within,” or “If only it were so easy to have things done for you in the blink of an eye,” coupled with a pointed look, Harry feels like he might burst out of his skin.

Another thing is that he keeps hearing the same voice in his head, repeatedly at random points during his work hours. It’s never when he’s at home or even going to work. The voice speaks in a strange tongue that feels almost foreign but Harry hears it in English.

He wonders if maybe he’s going crazy—if he’s finally cracked right when he’s gotten his big break. He tries his best not to think things like that because Paul can usually tell right off the bat when Harry starts to feel particularly sullen.

Harry doesn’t get to see Paul as often now with his work hours but he still drops by every single day, even if just to have a short conversation with the man over the counter as he’s preparing something for a customer. Paul seems to know something too because ever since Harry told him about the job, he’s been giving Harry these weird smiles.

Niall is mainly just excited about Harry’s new position and spends most of his time calling Harry a few choice words in the most cheerful manner he can. Harry usually just pouts back, but sometimes he uses his magic to knock his best friend on his backside. He thinks that’s probably the main purpose of them—to keep Niall from getting too obnoxious (he says that in the fondest way that he can).

On the other hand, his magic is useful for when he needs to do research. He learns a spell that lifts words straight off the papers until they swirl around his head and he can read them even while he’s watching various interviews on the Parliament.

He switches between research about the Parliament and humanrights, often finding articles about them together—about how some rights still haven’t been equally acknowledged by Parliament, but despite this, he usually comes back to a stupid video of Prince Louis playing football for charity or Prince Louis helping his little sisters or just _anything_ with Prince Louis.

It’s not an obsession, he swears.

No, it’s more that Prince Louis is incredibly lovely with his sharp wit and charming smile and Harry has had a minor crush on him since he was at least thirteen. Not that it’s relevant.

Once, he goes on twitter to check out Prince Louis’ account and finds disgusting tweets telling him that he isn’t fit to represent the country because _he’s a poof_ or other derogatory words that get worse and worse as Harry scrolls down. After that, Harry makes it his personal job to block and report every single person he sees saying things of that sort. Sue him if he’s a bit protective.

Other than that, he does actually research the other members of the royal family. Queen Johannah’s five children are all interesting in their own ways and Harry finds himself intrigued.

Charlotte, the oldest girl of the family, is secretive—that much is clear. She keeps her head down and doesn’t comment on anything. Harry wonders why that is because none of the other Tomlinsons act that way.

Felicite who is a few years younger than Charlotte seems shy and reserved but then when Harry finds her twitter, it’s clear that she’s anything but that. She’s brash while being sweet and it’s clear she loves her family a lot. He won’t admit to it if asked but he does tear up a little when he sees her tweets from around the time of her mother’s death.

The twins, Daisy and Phoebe are only eleven and Harry feels bad that they’re in the spotlight so often. They don’t seem to mind that much but after the Queen’s death, it’s clear that they’ve both become withdrawn, giving interviewers vicious looks when bothered. On the bright side, with all the interviews that he’s watched he thinks he can tell them apart now. That’s an accomplishment for the books.

After he watches the general interviews and looks through their twitters, he looks up their fanbase because unsurprisingly they have one. There, he learns more about them than interviews could possibly tell him. Within a week, he feels almost as if he knows them and he wonders if maybe he’s taking his job too seriously.

For all he knows, Simon might just tell him to write some bullshit article on Queen Johannah’s death, Louis’ coming out and how the Parliament plays a part in the whole ordeal. He hopes that’s not what Simon’s going to ask him to do.

It turns out he doesn’t have to hope because the next time Simon visits him, he seems to bring important news with him if the huge file he’s carrying is any tip.

“Do you need help, sir?” Harry asks, already standing up but the dark haired man shakes his head, before sitting down in his customary chair. No one else sits in it anyways. Harry’s still the new kid on the block.

“No, I don’t, but thank you Harry,” Simon says, before setting the large manila folder down on Harry’s desk. “I’m going to tell you something few people know about me, alright?”

Harry feels his mouth go dry because what secret could Simon Cowell possibly have to tell _him_ of all people? He can’t think of anything to say so he just nods respectfully.

Simon nods back before, fixing Harry with a thoughtful look. “Well, I’m sure you remember the topics I’ve asked you to research for the last week,” He starts and Harry nods again.

“The Parliament, rights and equality, and the royal family,” Harry lists off and Simon looks amused.

“Right. Well, let’s talk about the first one. Do you by any chance know all the members of the Parliament?” Simon asks, giving Harry an expectant look.

Harry swallows nervously before shaking his head. “No, I don’t. Was I meant to know them? I can learn them if need be,” Harry offers and Simon chuckles.

“That won’t be necessary, Harry,” Simon reassures, before cracking his knuckles absently. Harry winces just as Simon starts to speak again. “Well, there are many subdivisions of the Parliament and many of the members have other jobs as well.”

Harry doesn’t say anything in reply, instead waiting for Simon to get to the point so he doesn’t give himself a heart attack by assuming something he shouldn’t.

“One of them happens to run _Direction_ newspaper,” Simon informs, tone conversational and Harry stills from where he was lightly bouncing his leg.

“But _you_ run _Direction_ newspaper,” Harry says slowly, eyes wide. He’s suddenly very glad he didn’t research anything too incriminating about the Parliament.

“You’re right, I do. I also happen to be a member of the Parliament,” Simon explains and Harry’s mouth falls open a little even though he expected it.

“You—okay,” Harry replies blankly and Simon chuckles again.

“I’m not going to lie, Harry. We’re not the best of people. But many of us—well, let’s just say we possess many gifts and talents much like yourself.”

At that, Harry nearly swallows his tongue. “You mean like my writing skills?” Harry hedges and Simon smirks in a way that does nothing to reassure Harry.

“I think you know exactly what type of skills I’m talking about. But that isn’t the point. Richard Griffiths is the head of the Parliament—he calls all the big decisions and as of right now, Griffiths is refusing to accept equal rights.”

Harry feels a flash of indignant irritation at those words. “He’s refusing to accept equal rights? And the rest of the Parliament agrees with him?” Harry inquires and he knows that his voice sounds accusatory. He isn’t sorry though.

“No, the majority agrees with him. At least verbally they do. Now, I’m sure you can understand why this is a problem,” Simon says and Harry narrows his eyes.

“Well, obviously it’s a problem. Everyone should have the same rights. Like, for example, people should be allowed to have the right to marry whoever they want without facing judgment,” Harry says flatly and Simon purses his lips before shrugging.

“That’s a problem, yes. I agree with you but that’s not the problem I’m talking about. We have bigger issues at hand,” Simon informs and Harry frowns at the older man.

“What could possibly be a bigger issue than the fact that the Parliament is denying basic human rights?” Harry wonders bleakly and Simon sighs.

“The bigger issue is that the Prince of Wales is gay and out of the closet and the Parliament doesn’t fancy having someone who’s… _different_ as the king. There’s a reason the inauguration has been held off for so long,” Simon explains and Harry’s jaw drops in surprise.

“You’re kidding. You’re telling me that Prince Louis isn’t allowed to be king because he’s _gay_?” Harry splutters in disbelief and Simon nods slowly.

“Not exactly but that’s the basic idea. That’s where you’re going to come in,” Simon says while gesturing towards the folder that’s still on Harry’s desk, right next to his picture of Gemma and his mother.

Harry glances down at it in confusion, before repeating, “That’s where _I’m_ going to come in?”

Simon nods, opening the folder and pointing towards the first page. “You, Harry Styles, are going to be living with the royal family for the next two months, should you choose to accept. There you’ll be writing a detailed report on whether Prince Louis is fit for the throne despite his sexuality.”

Harry literally is staring at Simon in blatant disbelief now. “Excuse me? I’m going to be doing what?”

In response Simon sighs before pushing the folder closer towards Harry. “Don’t look so appalled, Harry. This was the best I could do on such a short notice. I proposed the idea and the majority of the Parliament agreed to give Prince Louis two months where you observe him and determine whether he should become king or not. It was either this or an immediate refusal in which case the next person in line for the crown is Charlotte Tomlinson and she’s only seventeen.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where Harry feels his blood boil under his skin in outrage and his water bottle falls off the table, despite that he wasn’t close to touching it. He can see Simon tracking the movement with his eyes and he feels another rush of irritation.

He opens his mouth to defend himself but Simon cuts him off quickly. “You’re special and you know that. There hasn’t been someone like you in thousands of years. You’re—you were born straight from the fabric of the earth. You’re magic, Harry and we both know it. I can even feel it now. I haven’t felt power like that in a long, long time.”

Harry thinks he’s actually losing his mind now because there’s no other explanation for this. There’s no way Simon can _know_ about him. He hasn’t done anything to tip him off other than the stupid water bottle that’s rolling as his feet now. Simon _can’t_ know—if he does, Harry isn’t sure what that means for himself. If Simon is part of the Parliament, he could be part of the group that kills off people with magic.

 _He’s going to die_.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry denies quietly, lowering his eyes and he starts tugging absently at his bracelets because it’s a bad habit he does when he gets nervous—it’s either that or pinching himself but he doesn’t think that’ll really help.

“Don’t lie. Some stories have been foretold and yours is one of them. It is your destiny to ensure Prince Louis becomes all that he is meant to be. You’re two sides of the same coin and fate has been waiting a long time for you. Even your magic knows that,” Simon replies, voice unwavering and Harry feels small under his gaze.

What Simon’s saying sounds like a load of shit to Harry but the part about fate sticks in his mind—reminds him the burn he feels too often when things go the right way. “How do you know?” Harry accuses and Simon chuckles heartily.

“Which questions are you asking exactly, young warlock? How do I know about your magic? How do I know of your destiny? How I can feel your magic thrumming with its own heartbeat? There are some questions that cannot be answered. However, if it appeases your mind, you should know that Mr. Higgins is a close friend of mine,” Simon says loftily and Harry starts at that.

“Paul? You both are friends?” Harry wonders and Simon nods.

“That we are. However, that is not important. What is important that you follow the path that fate has set for you. Your story, Harry, is similar to one a millennium ago and I hope that the same cards are not at play again. There is only one other with a magic as strong as yours, albeit his is much stronger. Despite all his magic, he could not save the one that he was meant to. I do not wish the same for you.”

Harry opens his mouth before closing it. He opens it again and then falters for what to say. He settles on, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then something occurs to him and he narrows his eyes. “But it was you, wasn’t it? In my head this past week?”

Simon gives him a frustrated look. “Yes, it was. That does not matter. What matters is whether or not you will choose to accept your destiny,” He reminds and Harry sighs, leaning an elbow on the table.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about but what exactly does my destiny entitle?” Harry wonders curiously and Simon’s expression morphs into one of relief.

“Well, first off, you’ll have to accept this assignment. Preparations are ready and all you have to do is sign a few papers which I’m sure your law-studying Irish friend could look over for you and no, don’t give me that look. I know a lot more than you think,” Simon addresses at Harry’s bewildered expression before continuing, “Basically, you will be staying with the royal family for two months and your article will be released to the public when you’re finished. If the general public feels that Prince Louis is fit for the throne, the Parliament will have no choice but to accept him as king.”

Simon gestures pointedly towards the folder again and this time Harry scoots up in his seat so he can glance them over. The papers on top seem to be contracts and Harry knows he’ll have to get Niall to look it over for him, just as Simon said.

“We’re already running low on time. I’m sorry but we can only allow you two months to write the fully information article and if you feel that Prince Louis truly is unsuitable for the throne, include as much but there has to be evidence for everything you say, good or bad. Of course, I’m sure you know this considering how well done your writing is,” Simon explains and Harry feels his cheeks flush at the comment that was probably unintentional on Simon’s part. Even if Simon is a nutcase of some sort and also part of the corrupt government, he still is the CEO of _Direction_ newspaper and he’s the closest thing to an expert at journalism that Harry knows, so the compliment makes him and his magic feel warm.

“I—this is the only way for Prince Louis to take the throne?” Harry checks, running his hand through his hair as he stares at the papers in front of him and he sees Simon nod in his peripheral vision.

“I’m truly sad to say that there is no other way,” Simon confirms and Harry sighs, rubbing absently at his right eye.

“What exactly do I need to do?” Harry presses and Simon lights up like he was expecting the question which he probably was.

“Well, we’ve cleared the floor with the prince’s publicist who coincidentally happens to be his best friend. You’ll be staying with them for two months, as I’ve already said, and you’ll be accompanying the prince nearly everywhere except for on Sundays which are your days off. I don’t suggest you actually leave the palace though but feel free to use that time for yourself. You’ll basically be monitoring the prince’s every move but I suggest you try to make friends with him because it’ll be easier to understand him that way. He’s less likely to be open with some journalist than a friend,” Simon explains but Harry’s mind is stuck on the word palace.

He’s going to be living in _Kensington Palace_. His life isn’t real right now.

“I do want you to do me a small favor though. Prince Louis—he has four half-sisters all younger than which I’m sure you’re aware of. They’re—they’re special. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them. I want you to keep an eye for them. Pay close attention to them whenever they’re around and just—watch out for them, please?” Simon asks in an encouraging voice.

For once, Harry feels in his realm. He loves children and despite that this is the royal family, he’s sure they can’t be all that different from any other children that he’s met. “Yeah, I can do that,” Harry agrees and Simon’s lips twist into what could probably be a smile if Harry squinted.

“Good. Everything else should be in the papers which you can read over tonight. If you agree to the assignment, please give them in to me tomorrow morning and I’ll make for the arrangements as soon as possible,” Simon informs before he stands up, brushing himself off. Then Harry watches as he bends down and when he gets back up, he’s placing the water bottle Harry dropped accidently earlier.

That raises a question and before he can help himself, he blurts, “Are you like me? Are you a sorcerer too?” just as Simon reaches for the door.

Simon stills before turning and giving Harry an apprehensive look. “The world is woven with magic. You would be surprised how many figures have a quality that others do not possess,” Simon offers before turning back to the door.

“What does that mean?” Harry protests but Simon is gone in five seconds flat.

Harry stares after the door dejectedly before he sighs. His eyes turn gold for a split second before the door slams shut, the noise reverberating through the room.

Then Harry drops his head into his hands and groans. How did he even get _into_ this mess?

He blames Niall. He will always blame Niall. But first, he wants to whine and complain to the blond haired boy. Then he can blame him. It makes sense in Harry’s mind so he’s going to go with it and hope for the best.


	2. Month 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *On day 27/28, there are events very similar to a panic attack. If that's triggering for you, please don't hesitate to skim/skip it. Also, on day 28, Harry is rather rough on himself (ie: digging his nails into the skin of his wrist) so if that's triggering, feel free to skip over those paragraphs!

**Month 1**

**Week 1**

**Day 1; Friday, May 2nd, 2014.**

 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Niall mutters and Harry grunts from where he’s carrying his luggage across the hall. “You’re actually going to go live with the Prince.”

Harry promptly gives up and stares at his luggage pathetically instead. His magic takes pity on him and his eyes glow gold before the luggage starts to float its own way to the door.

“You’re not the only one who can’t believe this is happening,” Harry reassures while checking his wallet for everything he needs. His phone is in his back pockets, his wallet in his front left one and a packet of peppermint gum is in the front right one.

“I think I’m going to cry,” Niall says and even while his voice is dry with sarcasm, when Harry looks over the blond boy is grinning widely and his eyes do look fairly shiny.

Harry groans halfheartedly before he waddles over to Niall and engulfs him in a hug. It occurs to him that this is probably the last time he’ll get to hug Niall for two _months_ and that makes him squeeze all the tighter. “I’m going to miss you, you tosser,” Niall mutters fondly into Harry’s shoulder and Harry has to squeeze his eyes to keep from getting emotional himself.

“I’ll miss you too, arsehole,” Harry mumbles sincerely and Niall _awwww_ ’s in his ear before roughly clapping him on the back.

“Don’t go falling in love with some prince, you hear me?” Niall teases, pulling back and Harry snorts but there’s a lump in his throat. He feels like he did the first time he left home, all those years ago in Holmes Chapel.

“I’m going to do exactly that now, just to piss you off,” Harry replies and Niall shakes his head, a fond grin on his lips.

He lifts one shoulder before saying, “I didn’t really expect any different. But you better skype me every single week, alright? Or at least call me. I’m going to be very bitter if I hear that you end up calling Gemma more than me,” Niall jibes and Harry scowls playfully.

“We both know that’s less likely than pigs flying,” Harry reminds and his hands go to his pockets again to make sure nothing slipped out since the last time he checked.

Niall shoots him an alarmed look before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Keep your voice down, she’ll hear you. She can make pigs fly if she wants. She has magic too, remember?”

It’s obviously played up but it makes Harry feel marginally better anyways. Niall somehow always knows the right things to say and Harry feels a burst of warmth in his chest for him.

“Don’t be a knob,” Harry mumbles, flicking Niall and the blond boy’s response is to pinch Harry in retaliation. Harry moves away at the last second, giggling and Niall rolls his eyes before dropping his hand.

Harry feels jittery with nerves almost like he’s a bird that’s about to take for flight. He likes that idea—the idea of birds taking off for flight, the idea their home is with each other and not a certain or specific place. That they’re free to do as they please and free to go where they want but still they choose to be with one another.

He absently rubs at a tattoo on his right wrist, about the size of his thumb. It’s of a sparrow and it’s so tiny that people almost always miss it. His bracelets tend to cover it up most of the time, but today he’s bracelet free. In effort to be professional, he’s wearing a dark button up shirt matched with his tightest pair of skinny jeans. That part probably isn’t as professional, but he also kind of wants to look nice for the Prince of Wales and he figures showing off his legs is as a good a way to go about that than anything else.

He’s also wearing a scarf—one of his favorites. He wears scarves more often than he even notices but now that he wears them near all the time, it feels weird if he isn’t wearing one. Makes his neck feel cold, strangely enough.

He grabs his jacket off the rack before turning back to Niall who’s watching him with a smile on his lips. “You’re really doing this, Haz,” Niall mutters, eyes bright and Harry nods, feeling his own lips curl up in disbelief.

“Yeah, I really am.”

They don’t say anything as they walk to the door of their flat. Harry slings his two duffle bags over either shoulder before using his hands to grab the handle of his luggage. It’s probably more than he’ll need but he packed nearly a dozen suits just to be sure he’d always have a backup.

He knows a spell that’ll get almost any stain out but still, he’s very wary about whether he’ll be able to use his magic freely in a place where there will be eyes everywhere. As of late, his powers have been acting out. He doesn’t know why because it’s never been a problem before but now random magic bursts out of him all the time.

When he asks Paul about it, his response is that Harry’s probably getting closer to finding his purpose. He tries not to read into that because there’s no way his purpose has anything to do with the royal family.

It seems Paul knows more than he’s letting on and while Harry would love to bother him into admitting whatever it is, he has a date with his job for the next two months so he really can’t.

Paul is proud of him though—it’s obvious in the way he hugged Harry just as tightly as Niall when Harry told him about his assignment (not giving all the details, of course. That was part of the contract. If asked, all he’s meant to say is that he’s doing an article on how life is with the royal family compared to the average English family) and then proceeded to make Harry his favorite meal.

His mother cries over skype when he tells her and then Gemma teases him on being an overachiever. They’re both ridiculously proud of him too though, it’s obvious in their smiles. Even Robin seems proud in the brief moment he interrupts their skype session.

It registers to Harry that he’s actually on the staff for _Direction_ newspaper and he’s about to spend two months living in the royal household. It’s absolutely crazy but somehow it’s also his life. It’s absolutely surreal and he manages to keep the real reason for his assignment off his mind.

He doesn’t want to think about how Prince Louis is being unfairly prejudiced against just because of his sexuality because then he starts getting upset and with the way his magic has been acting out lately, getting upset is a bad idea.

Harry settles on a neutral feeling because that’s what keeps his magic the calmest. He stumbles over his own feet on his way to the elevator but Niall throws an arm out and keeps him from falling over. Harry flashes him a grateful smile and they both wait silently for the elevator.

Once they get to the lobby, Niall stops. He’s still in his pajamas so Harry doesn’t blame him for not wanting to go outside where there’s supposed to be a car waiting for him.

“You’ll do great, Haz. I’m really proud of you,” Niall declares and Harry feels his eyes start to tear up. He takes a deep breath before nodding.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Harry says and Niall nods, grinning.

“Course you will. You’ll be back before you know it. Plus, I expect daily texts so don’t expect to get rid of me that soon. Now go, I don’t want you to be late,” Niall reasons.

Harry does as he’s told and carries his bags to the door where he turns to give Niall one last look. Niall waves cheerfully and Harry smiles back before he steps out.

He doesn’t expect the limo.

Two men are standing on either side of the limo and one of them spots Harry. “Mr. Styles?” He calls and Harry nods.

“That’s me,” Harry replies and one of the two men come up to him just as he sets the luggage in his hands on the ground in front of him.

“Are these your bags, sir?” He asks, gesturing towards the luggage and then the duffle bags on both of Harry’s shoulders.

Harry isn’t sure how they wouldn’t be his bags, considering he’s carrying them and all but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he affirms, “Yeah, these are my bags. Um, where should I put them?”

“That won’t be necessary. We’ll take care of your bags,” The man says, grabbing the handle of the luggage with one of his hands. The man is huge and he could probably carry four small children on his back if he wanted which is why Harry doesn’t feel bad about passing over his bags.

The man takes them, slinging them over his own shoulder before nodding at Harry. “After we have checked your bags, we will return them to you,” He rumbles in his deep voice and Harry’s eyes widen.

“Checked my bags?” Harry repeats, following after where the man is walking back towards the limousine.

“Yes, we must check your bags to ensure you are not carrying items that may be dangerous to any member of the royal family.” The man’s tone is stoic and Harry feels an irrational fear. His spell books are in his bags but then he remembers he put books covers on them, so they look just like any other book.

He breathes a sigh of relief and when they get to the car, the man moves towards the trunk while the second man opens the door in front of Harry.

Harry blinks in surprise but he gets in anyways. He’s never had someone open car doors for him. It feels strange and ridiculously surreal. He wonders how royalty does this every day because he doesn’t think he could ever get used to it.

The inside of the limousine is even fancier than the outside—Harry doesn’t even know how that’s _possible_. He feels a bit ridiculous, sitting there in his jeans and shirt while even the guards are dressed up in suits, buttoned to the top.

He’s suddenly very grateful for thinking ahead of time and packing those suits after all.

All day, Harry has been actively keeping Prince Louis off his mind because he knows that if he starts to think about the fact that he’s actually meeting him, he’ll psych himself out. He’s done it before, what with that one time at that Script concert when there was a sudden flurry of people flailing because the Prince of Wales just happened to be somewhere in the crowd.

There was a burning in his veins that day. He wonders what that means. He wonders what all of it means, really. It’s been itching at him—Simon’s whole speech about Harry’s destiny. What _is_ Harry’s destiny? Why does everyone seem to know about it except for him?

He can feel the hint of the burning today too. It isn’t quite a burning but there’s something there, sizzling under his skin and he frequently checks his reflection in his phone to make sure his eyes aren’t glowing gold.

His eyes aren’t the only thing he’s worried about being gold. He feels like he might explode in a flurry of gold. He _feels_ gold. The quote _nothing gold can stay…._ echoes on a loop in his mind.

The drive is a long one. Harry spends most of it on his phone, texting back and forth with Gemma. He would say she’s nearly as excited as he is but that’s a lie.

She is excited for him though—he can tell by her overuse of the smiling emoji. He’s always felt a little bit of an underachiever compared to her but he’s also never felt anything but proud of her. He chooses to be the underachiever because the fact that he has more magic scares him more than enough.

This is the first time that he’s actually _doing_ something. Gemma is off being a semi-famous model along with her doctorate and Harry admits he would be very intimidated if she wasn’t his older, annoying sister (although the annoying part only applies sometimes).

When the limo finally comes to a stop, Harry chances a glance out the tinted windows. He’s pointedly kept away from them, choosing to sit in the middle because he’s still a little afraid this is all a dream.

The Kensington Palace is right before his eyes and he worries that he might pass out for a second. He’s literally in walking distance of Kensington Palace. He’s pretty sure he looks like an idiot, with his hands pressed up against the window, jaw slack and eyes wide.

He thinks the guards are probably laughing at him. He knows he would be if he saw a kid so out of his realm like Harry currently is.

Harry clicks down on the button that lowers the window and then peers his head out. Even the air feels different here—he’s breathing the same air as the _Tomlinsons_.

Or well, he may actually not be breathing at all but that definitely isn’t the point. The point is that he’s actually here and this is actually real.

“Mr. Styles?” Someone calls and Harry turns to the voice, cheeks flushing at being caught. The guard staring at him looks a mixture between amused and unsure at whether he’s allowed to be amused.

“Yes, I. I don’t really have an excuse for what I’m doing. I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes before ducking back in the car and pushing the door open. He steps out and winces as the nerves in his legs start functioning again.

There’s still a blush high up on his cheeks so he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone around him. There’s a lot more people than he anticipated though and he wonders briefly if there’s a small army just guarding the entrance to Kensington Palace.

He keeps his eyes on his shoes until someone clears their throat.

It’s a different guard whose face is incredibly impassive. “We are required to do a full body search so sir, if you could just please stand still while we scan you, that would be highly appreciated."

Harry gives the man a wide eyed look—a body search? Do they think he’s carrying a bomb? Is that a thing people actually _do_ when going into the palace? Has this happened before?

He doesn’t ask any of those questions though. Instead, he nods even while his eyes are as huge as ever and stands as still as he possibly can.

The first thing someone does is hold out a bowl. “Any items on your person need to be put in here,” the man informs and Harry pulls a face. He digs into his pockets and pulls out his phone before putting it in the bowl, followed by his keys and the packet of gum. He then reaches behind his neck and unclasps his necklace before dropping that in the bowl too. He does the same for his various rings and then his watch.

Harry thinks he sees a flicker of amusement on this man’s face as too as Harry drops item after item into the bowl. He thinks he’s done but then a woman walks by this time, pointing at his shoes.

He nearly squawks in protest but then he sighs and bends down to untie his boots. Once he’s standing in just his socks, they bring out a metal device which they hold in front of his body. They go from his head down to his toes and when there isn’t a beep, they give him back his things.

Harry wants to roll his eyes but then he’s also moderately afraid on the royal family’s behalf he can’t imagine what kind of psychos do they deal with to have all these various checks beforehand.

When he finally puts all his belongings away, he’s led towards the gates of the palace where someone tells him that he needs to do a thumb print. He wishes Simon would have warned him about all of this beforehand—at least he would have mentally been prepared.

Instead, Simon has been practically radio silent other than the email with the details of when the car would be picking him up.

He doesn’t think about it anymore though because they finally let him pass through the gates. There’s a group of guards following him and he checks after his shoulder every few seconds to see if they’re still there.

As soon as he enters the palace, he’s greeted by a smiling brown haired man that can’t be that much older than him.

“Hi! You must be Harry! Wow, you’re younger than I expected. Not the point. I’m Liam and I basically make sure that the royal family stays on task. I’m their handler,” the man introduces, eyes crinkling and Harry lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

“You’re pretty young for a handler too, aren’t you?” Harry replies but his voice is playful and the man’s smile stays in place.

“Yeah, but I’ll be twenty three in a few months. Not too young!” Liam chirps, before moving out of the way as the guards carry Harry’s luggage in.

He feels bad momentarily because it’s not like _he’s_ royalty and they really shouldn’t have to carry his bags but they really do weigh a ton so he resolves to tell them a thanks later.

“I’ve got a lot to show you so unless you want to unpack now, we can take a quick tour,” Liam offers and Harry feels a smile tug at his lips.

“I can unpack later,” he answers and Liam’s face brightens before he claps his hands together.

“Great! Just this way then.” Liam beckons for Harry to follow him so he does, keeping a foot of distance in between them.

The palace is beautiful. Even more beautiful than the pictures Harry’s seen and he aches to run his fingers along the walls just to check if this is really happening. He doesn’t indulge himself though because he doesn’t need the royal family’s _handler_ thinking he’s some nutcase that likes touching walls. That’s the last thing he needs, really.

There are paintings hung up on the walls, amongst them a few family portraits. He wonders briefly if Louis’ painting does him justice but then he banishes the thought just as quickly. He doesn’t need to be worrying about that right now.

“This is going to be your room!” Liam announces, after they’ve climbed a flight of stairs and entered a hallway. The room he’s pointing to is shut and Harry hesitates before reaching past Liam to turn the doorknob and push the door open.

Liam doesn’t seem to mind as Harry enters and his eyes are probably lit up in awe. It isn’t something completely outrageous but all the same, Harry is in love with it.

It’s a simple room, with a huge bed smack in the middle. The color scheme is white and black and there’s a desk in the corner next to a couch. Harry also sees a flat screen on the wall and there’s several different remotes on the bedside table. He wonders if two months will be enough to try every single button on all of them.

His bags are in a corner of the room, next to what looks to be a walk in closet. He breathes out in shock quietly, unable to help himself. Despite its simplicity, it’s utterly _lovely_ and Harry thinks he might just hug Liam even though he doesn’t even know if Liam was the one to organize the room.

“Louis picked it out,” Liam comments idly and Harry blinks in confusion, wondering if Liam somehow read his mind or whether his expression gave him away.

Then the words register. “Prince Louis?” Harry repeats and Liam nods, grinning.

“Yeah! We didn’t really know what you’d like for sure though, so I hope it’s alright. I personally thought you were going to be in your thirties or something, but I guess that teaches me not to assume,” Liam laughs. “But I think Lou thought you were too, so at least I’m not alone.”

 _Lou_. Harry is talking to someone who is comfortable enough with the Prince of Wales to call him _Lou_. Harry is going need a minute… or maybe two months.

“Just turned twenty two,” Harry admits, after a few beats of extended silence.

Liam nods before shrugging. “Better for us, really. Everyone in this palace is a bit young. Of course that doesn’t mean we can’t do our jobs, because I assure you we’re the best at what we do. Not to sound like I’m trying to be obnoxious, of course—“ Liam starts to backtrack and Harry giggles before he can help it.

“I get it, Liam,” He cuts in and Liam blushes, ducking his head.

“Right, of course you do. I mean you did just say you were twenty two. Do you do a lot of big reports like this one? I bet you do. Did you write that one article about meeting the Prime Minister? I can’t remember if it was you but I definitely read it in _Direction_ so it might’ve been,” Liam says but it sounds mostly like he’s musing to himself.

It’s Harry’s turn to blush. “I—er, this is my first assignment for _Direction_ actually,” Harry mutters and he absently slides his hands into his front pockets.

Liam looks a mixture of shocked and amazed, eyebrows raised. “Really? Were you working for one of the other big names before then? _Wanted_ perhaps, or _Union_?” Liam wonders curiously and Harry’s face flushes a deeper shade of pink.

“Well this is actually my first proper job, I guess. I worked for a small neighborhood sort of newspaper before but that’s really as far as my experience goes,” Harry mumbles, shrugging one shoulder.

He knows how this is going to look. He’s going to look inexperienced and they’re probably going to request for a different person and Harry is going to go back home and never meet the Prince of Wales. He wouldn’t blame them, really.

“That’s amazing!” Liam exclaims and Harry’s head snaps up incredulously. “You must be a really good writer then if they’re giving you this as your first assignment,” Liam says and his smiles looks genuine.

Harry laughs nervously before shaking his head. “I guess I’m alright,” He responds and Liam looks like he might argue more on that front but then he must decide against it because he just leans against the door.

“You can still change your mind about unpacking,” Liam offers lightly. “I know this might be a lot to take in.”

That makes the first real smile break through on Harry’s face. He decides he likes Liam. He didn’t expect to like anyone, really. He’s a people person but he thought maybe he’d be too intimidated to make friends but he thinks he’d rather like to be friends with Liam, actually.

Liam seems to be a genuinely nice person and he’s pretty nice to look at too. He has deep set eyebrows and pouty lips but he’s always twisting them into a smile so it’s alright. He has a little scruff and his eyes are a warm brown. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and even then, Harry can tell that his arm muscles are probably larger than Harry’s thighs. Well, Harry has exceptionally small thighs though, so maybe that isn’t the right comparison. Either ways, Liam is halfway to buff but his personality makes him seem a lot softer. If Harry had to guess, he’d say Liam is a cuddler.

He’s usually good when it comes to reading people—he thinks most people are open books and when they aren’t, it makes Harry even more determined to get to know them.

Liam is an open book though, with his booming laugh and warm eyes. It’s nice and it reminds him of Niall a little, who’s the most open book Harry has ever met.

“It’s a change of scenario, definitely. But, might as well get it over with now, right?” Harry says and Liam offers him a quiet sort of smile at that.

“Might as well,” Liam agrees before leaning back further, pushing the door open. Harry smiles gratefully before brushing past the brown haired boy. “Do you want to see the second level first or the first?”

“I don’t really mind either way,” Harry admits even though his brain is screaming _take me to the one where Prince Louis is please please please_ childishly. It’s probably a good thing his brain to mouth filter works sometimes.

Liam does the second floor first, showing him which room belongs to who but Harry notices he skips Louis’ room. He wonders why that is. After that, Liam shows him the library where he tells him that if Harry needs to do any research for his article or anything, he’s free to go in at any time he wants.

There’s more rooms on the second floor but Liam informs him that most are just guest rooms that are vacant and that everything is mostly downstairs.

They go back down to the main level shortly after that where Liam shows him the ball room that they don’t actually use, the dining room, and the kitchen. He also shows him where the girls spend most of their time and then introduces him to some of the people they pass.

He meets their hairdresser, Lou, along with her adorable daughter and then also their stylist Caroline who pinches his cheeks while he shoots Liam a panicked glare. He meets Cal and then also Marco, both of whom laugh delightedly at how curious he is.

It seems that everyone who works in palace is a family of some sorts and he thinks he’ll have to include that in his article as soon as he knows enough about all of them. That’s sure to be a strong point in defending the prince.

They’re all very kind and sweet and Harry is taken with all of them immediately. He wonders if he can somehow sneak his way into living at the Palace permanently but then remembers all the security checks they do and gets a little pale at the thought of them finding a stowaway.

He figures that wouldn’t go well.

When they get to the dining room, Liam stops talking and gives Harry a thoughtful expression. “I think you’re supposed to join them at meals but I’m not one hundred percent sure. I mean, I usually do if I’m not busy and so does Z, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem. The twins might cause a scene at the prospect of someone new but better now than later,” Liam muses and Harry raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to be having dinner with the royal family?” Harry queries in disbelief and Liam’s expression flickers into one of amusement.

“Harry, you seem nervous. I don’t think you’re supposed to be nervous,” Liam comments, a grin on his lips and Harry takes back what he said about liking Liam.

“ _You_ try meeting the royal family and not being nervous,” Harry shoots back under his breath and Liam laughs.

“I do it every day,” Liam replies, patting Harry’s shoulder consolingly. “But honestly, you don’t need to stress about it. The girls are intimidating at first but they’ll love you in no time. Louis is just, well, Louis, and once he sees you’re not some thirty something year old guy, I’m sure he’ll love you too,” He reassures and Harry gives him an exasperated look.

“That doesn’t help me at all,” Harry deadpans and Liam snorts, before shrugging his shoulders.

“I gave my most valiant effort. Now please go take a seat while I go find the girls. I think Louis is at a meeting so he might be late,” Liam mutters, before pointing towards the large dining table in the center of the room.

Then he disappears out one of the entrances and Harry lets out a deep breath. He slowly goes over to the table before taking a seat in one of the chairs in the middle. He doesn’t fancy sitting at the head of the table and accidentally sitting in Prince Louis Tomlinson’s seat.

He hums under his breath as he takes a look around and he feels the burning under his skin again. There’s a brief moment where he feels the magic pulse out of him and the table starts to shake lightly.

Harry immediately pinches himself, eyes wide and the table stills underneath his hands.

The craziness of the day is finally sinking in and it suddenly feels all too real. He’s actually here, sitting in the dining room in Kensington Palace while waiting for Princesses Charlotte, Felicite, Daisy and Phoebe Tomlinson to join him.

He leans back in his seat and shuts his eyes, concentrating on breathing steadily. He isn’t sure how he misses the sound of someone’s footsteps as they enter the room but it seems he did because he doesn’t notice there’s another person in the room until they’re poking his cheek.

Harry starts in surprise, eyes flicking open to meet light blue eyes which are watching him with curiosity. “Who are you?” the girl asks and Harry blinks a few more times before realizing one of the twin princesses is standing next to him.

He nearly jumps out of skin then and the girl looks amused, eyes still curious. “Are you alright, mister?” she wonders and Harry licks his lips uncertainly before nodding. She smiles at that, before poking him again. “I’m glad. But who are you?”

“I’m—er, I’m Harry. You must be Princess Daisy, right?” he says and thanks his lucky stars for being able to tell them apart because she grins widely in surprise.

“That’s me,” she confirms. “Not many people know right away. I like you, Harry,” she settles on saying before climbing into the seat next to Harry.

“I like you too, Princess,” Harry replies as his shoulders sag with relief. Now that he’s actually in his right mind, he gives her a sweet smile.

She’s a lot cuter in person and she has a purple bow in her hair that matches her polka-dotted dress. The dress is pretty and suits her. He tells her as much and she beams.

“Purple is my favorite color,” Daisy informs in a matter-of-fact tone and Harry chuckles.

“That’s a lovely color,” Harry agrees. “I like purple too.”

She looks at him curiously again, turning her body to face him. It’s clear she’s a princess in the way she clasps her hands together in her lap and stares at him respectfully. “Is it your favorite color as well?”

Harry shakes his head, turning to face her as well. He copies her hand etiquette and she giggles. It makes him feel pretty accomplished. “It isn’t, actually. My favorite color is orange. Purple is a color for pretty princesses like yourself,” Harry says and Daisy’s lips part in surprise.

“Orange can be for princesses too! You’re pretty and your favorite color is orange, so maybe you’re a princess like me,” Daisy exclaims, eyes bright and Harry snorts.

“Alright, then I guess I’m a princess. Princess Harry has a nice ring to it,” he tells her and she nods vigorously.

“Princess Harry does sound nice. But I don’t like when people call me Princess Daisy. I like Daisy a lot better. Is it alright if I just call you Harry?” she asks, voice polite and Harry wants to hug her.

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” Harry assures, smiling and then she reaches up to poke one of his cheek, her finger dipping into the dimple.

“Harry, you have dimples!” She emphasizes this by poking harder and Harry laughs again, lightly reaching over to poke her own cheek.

“I do,” he agrees and then he sees another girl enter the dining room. She’s wearing black jeans like his own with a pretty dress shirt. She looks up in surprise when she hears Daisy giggling, her eyes widening. It’s Felicite and she looks politely confused. Everyone in this family seems very polite. He wonders if maybe he should brush up on his own manners.

“Who’s that, Daisy?” Felicite asks slowly, inching towards them until she’s reaches the seat cross from them, taking a seat.

“This is Harry. He’s my new friend, he’s a princess like us and his favorite color is orange,” Daisy lists off, pointing at a different finger for every new thing she says.

Felicite raises an eyebrow before she nods at Harry. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Felicite,” she introduces and Harry offers her a crooked smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too, your Highness,” he greets and she snorts, before raising a hand to her mouth in surprise.

“I’m not—Just Felicite is fine,” she says softly and Harry tilts his face with a puzzled expression. From the two of five siblings he’s met so far, they both seem insistent on keeping formalities to a minimum. It’s rather interesting and he notes it in the back of his mind for later.

“Felicite it is,” he replies and she gives him a small smile. The next arrival of one of the princesses is a lot more loud and abrupt as a short girl in a green dress identical to Daisy’s comes running in. “Daisy, I think Cher made _cookies_!” she shouts and Daisy gasps next to him.

Harry giggles at them before he can help it and he sees Felicite shoot him a curious look. Well, Simon did say to be more a friend than an actual journalist so he figures giggling is a good thing and he giggles more often than he’d like to admit so he supposes that works out well.

“What kind of cookies?” Daisy presses and Phoebe climbs into the seat next to her, before they both start whispering to each other excitedly.

Then Phoebe takes notice of Harry and she blinks at him in surprise. “Who’s he?” she asks no one in particular and Felicite smiles fondly.

“From what I’ve heard, his name is Harry and he’s a princess,” Felicite stage-whispers, giving Harry a wink. It’s not suggestive but more as if he’s in on some inside joke.

He’s never going to live down the Princess thing. He knows it already.

“Awesome,” Phoebe nods. “I’m Phoebe and this is Daisy,” she says, pointing at her sister who sighs exasperatedly, shoving Phoebe’s arm away.

“He knows who I am, we’re friends!” Daisy points out and Harry nods seriously behind her. Felicite is the one who giggles this time, hand covering her mouth once again.

“You are?” Phoebe asks dubiously, taken back. She looks back at Harry. “Can we be friends too?”

“Of course we can. I love making friends,” Harry says earnestly, reaching out a hand for her to shake. She takes it in both of hers and shakes it before dropping it.

“Is Felicite your friend too?” Phoebe asks after a moment, eyes squinted and Harry looks over at said girl who shrugs.

“If she wants to be,” Harry answers and Phoebe nods like this is the right answer. “We can all be friends. Friends are fun to have,” he adds on and this time, both of the twins smile at him.

“I like him,” Phoebe decides, voice quiet and clearly only meant for Daisy who smirks in reply.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Daisy whispers back and Phoebe giggles quietly. They’re both really cute and Harry is as besotted with them as the rest of the country.

“Wow… almost as if we’re twins,” Phoebe teases and Daisy lets out a loud laugh at that, slapping her bare knee. Harry has to keep from laughing himself if he’s honest and when he looks over, Felicite has a hand clapped over her mouth and her eyes are shining with mirth.

“I like your shirt,” he tells Felicite, turning away from the twins who are giggling and whispering to each other. He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of making friends.

“Thank you!” Felicite replies, eyes lighting up. “Louis got it for me last week when he was in France. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She tugs at the fabric of her sleeve, examining it.

“It really is. You should lend me it sometimes,” he jokes and Felicite laughs quietly.

Then she gives him a thoughtful look over before shrugging. “It might actually fit you. Your shoulders are a bit too broad though,” she comments, looking down at her own shoulders. “Maybe I could get it stretched.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, before shrugging. “That’s quite alright, but thank you anyways,” he says, feeling his lips tilt up into a smile.

Felicite laughs before shaking her head. “I might nick something off of you at some point though. We all might, really. We do that a lot—unless, wait. You’re the reporter, right? Oh my God, please be the reporter or I’ve made an idiot of myself,” she pleads, looking stricken and Harry bites back his grin.

“I’m just a guest,” he lies and Felicite’s eyes widen, lips parting in surprise.

She’s a bit speechless for a second before she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry—you’re not—are you Prince Harry of Sweden or something? I didn’t—I had no idea. No one ever tells me anything! I didn’t mean to offend you in any way—“ She looks frazzled and Harry immediately cuts her off.

“I’m kidding!” He interrupts and she falters.

Then she scowls and throws her napkin at him. “I nearly had a heart attack! Not cute!” she grumbles, running a hand through her hair but she looks a lot calmer.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes and she huffs but she’s smiling now.

Then someone else enters the room. Harry looks up and over to see a girl standing in the entrance, rooted to the spot as she watches the four of them with a bemused expression.

Charlotte hesitates before stepping in to the room and then it’s quiet as she takes the seat next to Felicite whose lips settle into a thin line. Even the twins look sullen and Harry wonders if he missed something.

“Are you alright, Lottie?” Felicite murmurs, fingers brushing her sister’s arms who recoils at the touch. Harry watches the interaction cautiously, unsure of what to do.

“I’m fine,” Lottie murmurs, before meeting Harry’s eyes. “I’m Charlotte,” she introduces, voice still as quiet as before.

Harry nods, licking his dry lips before replying. “I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you, your Highness.”

She doesn’t correct him the way that Felicite did. She just nods firmly and then says nothing else, instead setting her napkin on her lap.

Felicite frowns before she sighs. The table falls silent again and it feels strange. For the amount of time that Harry has known the girls, it’s been filled with laughter and smiles but now everything feels incredibly stilted and the air is tense.

A few people enter with trays of food which they put down on the table before leaving. Harry’s own plate makes his mouth water but he waits until the girls start to eat before he does. They don’t talk to each other much, just asking for someone to pass the salt or pepper if necessary.

Harry feels a little uncomfortable actually and he wonders what’s going _on_. It’s clearly something to do with the oldest Tomlinson sister but he can’t put his finger on what it is. He’s only known them for an hour though, so he vows to figure it out before he leaves.

The silence only breaks when someone pushes open the closed doors and walks in. Harry’s heart starts racing in his chest because he doesn’t know who else it would be other than Prince Louis.

He’s really off with that guess. Instead, who he does see makes his mouth fall open in shock.

It’s Zayn.

Zayn who is smiling as Phoebe gets out of her seat and runs to hug him. He feels Daisy deliberate beside him before she sighs exaggeratedly and does the same thing.

Harry watches with his jaw slack and then Zayn meets his eyes. Then the tan skinned man’s eyes widen as well before his face breaks into a grin that’s unnaturally pretty and makes Harry want to cry quite a bit.

“Harry!” Zayn calls in glee, walking over to him while the twins hang on to either of his legs. “I was hoping I would see you again. Fancy meeting you here!”

There isn’t really a lot Harry can say that to that other than, “Nice to see you too?” and he voices it like a question because what else is he even supposed to _say_.

“You’re here for the article, yeah? This is great, mate,” Zayn says before bending down and murmuring something to the twins who nod before letting go of him and sitting in their seats.

Zayn walks around the table and sits down next to Felicite who finally has a smile on her face again. Harry watches the tanner man press a kiss against the crown of her head before taking a seat.

“Where’s Lou?” Lottie wonders then, peeking around Felicite to look at Zayn. It’s the second time she’s spoken all evening and even now, she hides her face behind her hair.

Something feels off and it feels even stranger when Zayn frowns a little. “He’s busy. I don’t think he’ll be home in time to wish you goodnight,” he says, voice sad and all four of the girls let out matching sighs.

“Can’t you schedule less places for him to be?” Felicite pleads, pouting and Zayn’s frown deepens as he shakes his head.

“You know that’s not how it works, love,” he chides quietly and Felicite just groans, turning back to her food.

Harry feels something then—it reminds him of when Gemma is in the room with him. This sort of _zinging_ in the air. It makes him stiffen in surprise because he hasn’t felt it in months and he wonders why he’s feeling it now.

He forgets about it a moment later though because Lottie stands up, pushing her chair back. “Excuse me,” She mutters, before she leaves the room immediately.

Harry stares after her curiously and he thinks he probably isn’t the only one. The twins look sad and Felicite looks irritated.

“She’s always doing this,” she grumbles to Zayn who pats her hand sympathetically.

Harry briefly wonders who Zayn even is but then Simon’s words come back to him about how Prince Louis’ publicist who also happens to be his best friend is the one that cleared the idea of Harry coming to stay for two months. He makes the connection relatively quickly and it makes a lot more sense in his head.

It’s clear all the Tomlinsons adore Zayn, except for maybe Charlotte but as far as Harry knows, she’s off in her own little world  because that’s the only thing he can think of to explain her actions thus far.

“Give her time, she’ll come around,” Zayn promises but Harry catches the uncertainty. He doesn’t comment on it though.

“I miss Lottie,” Daisy sulks, pushing her own plate away from her. Phoebe copies her, before crossing her arms and blowing a piece of hair out her face.

Harry thinks he understands now why Simon told him to keep an eye for these girls. He would’ve done it anyways, even if Simon hadn’t said anything but now he understands _why_ he said it in the first place. They’re all so lovely but sad at the same time and Harry vows to make them laugh and smile as much as he can for the following months.

Dinner is a little louder with Zayn there as he tells them about their day and they listen intently. Harry finds himself listening along, curious to hear what he’s saying.

When they finish eating, they all go off in their separate ways but Zayn follows Harry to his room where he still has to unpack.

“So,” Zayn says, plopping down on Harry’s bed.

Harry raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on it. “So,” Harry replies back, voice lilting on teasing and he thinks that it makes Zayn smile.

He isn’t really looking over at the tanner man though, instead looking through his duffle bag in attempt to see if his spell books are still there. After a few more seconds of riffling, he finds one and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Zayn tells him, making Harry start in surprise. He tucks his book back in before looking over.

“What isn’t?” He wonders, crouching down to the floor before crossing his legs.

“This article you’re doing. It’s going to be really hard to write and Louis isn’t—he isn’t the easiest person to get to know. If you want an out, here’s your chance,” Zayn offers and Harry thinks back to when Liam offered him an out as well.

He wonders if this is some sort of test. If so, he thinks he’s passing with flying colors as he shakes his head. “I think I can handle the challenge,” Harry tells him, smiling solidly.

Zayn hesitates before smiling back. Then he gets off the bed and sits across from Harry, crossing his own legs. “I think you’ll be good for him. He’s been under a lot of stress lately, as you can probably imagine. But you’re sweet, Harry. You’re normal. He could use some normal in his life,” Zayn admits and Harry refrains from pulling a face.

Harry is as far from normal as he can get. He doesn’t think that’s what Zayn wants to hear though so instead he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t say anything at all. If he doesn’t say anything, he won’t say anything wrong. It seems like a good enough plan.

“I know you’re doing this for work but I think you’ll like him. He’s very—he’s nice. He’s my best friend,” Zayn confides, grinning slightly and that makes Harry’s heart melt a little in his chest. He’s turning into a proper teenage girl.

“From what I’ve seen, he seems lovely,” Harry promises and Zayn looks proud at that. It reminds him of how Niall looks sometimes when talking about him.

He feels a little ache in his chest because he misses Niall already. He’ll have to text him once Zayn leaves which he thinks might be soon because the dark haired man’s eyes keep flickering towards the door.

“Just be gentle with him, yeah? I know he’ll be hard to work with but he’s genuinely really great,” Zayn says then, giving Harry a hard look to which Harry responds with a nod.

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees and Zayn looks satisfied as he hops to his feet.

There’s a lull before Zayn speaks up again. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to get some sleep, you’ll be needing it around here,” he advises, walking towards the door.

Harry leans back on his arms, nodding again. “Thanks,” he replies and Zayn gives him a quick smile before disappearing out the door.

The rest of the night is spent unpacking and texting Niall who demands all the details about everything so Harry tells him. He tells him about the security checks and Liam, and Lou’s daughter Lux and the Princesses and then even how Zayn is actually a part of the royal staff (that’s what he’s taken to referring it as to).

Eventually, he tires himself out and climbs into the huge bed. It feels nice to climb into and he thinks maybe he’ll just spend the entire two months in this bed.

He’s nearly asleep when he hears a loud thud. His eyes flick open and he knows they’re golden as they see past the door, to wherever the noise came from. Paul calls it ‘seeing the path ahead’ but Harry thinks that makes it sound too mystical.

Harry makes a little noise when he sees a figure stumbling around in the hallway of his room, occasionally hitting the wall. He doesn’t know who it is but whoever they are, they’re very drunk.

At one point, their hand must hit a switch because the lights flicker on, making Harry wince even though he’s in his room, and only a sliver of light comes in through the bottom of the doorway.

He gasps though, when he sees the face of the drunken man. It’s Louis Tomlinson, who is sinking to the floor pathetically.

Harry isn’t sure if he should get up and maybe help him or _what_ because the Prince of Wales is in the hallway outside, drunkenly banging his head against the wall.

He’s just about to get up and offer help when he hears the muffled crying. He flinches at the sound and it takes him second to realize it’s coming from Louis.

Louis Tomlinson is sitting there crying, his shoulders shaking as he buries his head in his knees. Harry feels his heart break pathetically into a million pieces.

The sound is piercing in Harry’s skull, a crying that slowly turns into full out sobs. Harry doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do but then he sees two more figures coming down the hallway.

He feels an irrational surge of protectiveness because he doesn’t want anyone to see the Prince this vulnerable but then it’s just Liam and Zayn.

They both whisper soothingly to Louis who settles down after a while, his sobs turning into quiet hiccups. Harry watches as they both take either of his arms and help him up.

He’s clearly smashed if the way he starts sinking to the floor again is any indication. They don’t let him fall though, putting their arms around his waist and then they take him to a room a few doors down from Harry’s and they go inside.

Harry blinks his eyes open to the darkness of his own room and presses the palms of his hands into them. He rolls over and shoves his face into his pillow.

He doesn’t try to look at them anymore and it turns out he doesn’t have to, because sleep comes to him easily after that. The last thing he sees before he drifts off is Louis Tomlinson curled into a small ball, crying to himself and that in itself is enough to cause nightmares.

 

**Day 2; Saturday, May 3rd, 2014.**

Harry’s morning starts off differently than he expects—he goes down to the dining room for breakfast (and doesn’t get lost on the way there, amazingly enough) only to stop almost immediately in his tracks.

Prince Louis is sitting at the head of the table, nodding along to whatever Phoebe is telling him and he has a tired smile on his face.

Harry winces to himself, imagining having to deal with four loud sisters (well, maybe three, he amends, after seeing Lottie silently stabbing her eggs with her fork) with a hangover.

And then Harry realizes that it’s actually Prince Louis Tomlinson right in front of his eyes, not just a possible hallucination because of his magic. No, it’s really him and Harry nearly swoons.

It’s obvious that he isn’t the only one who swoons because his magic swoons right with him. He feels like he’s on fire, burning from the inside out and the feeling is _so_ real in his veins. It feels like his magic might just burst right out of him and he’s slightly afraid that it will.

It’s clear he’s right to worry because suddenly the entire room seems to be vibrating around him and the plates start sliding around on the table. Harry watches in shock as the forks and knives fall right off and clatter to the ground pathetically. It gets worse when he sees that the Prince’s eyes have settled on him.

He notices that none of them look particularly alarmed except for Lottie whose eyes are wide in obvious panic and she’s grasping at the tablecloth as if her life depends on it. That starts Harry out of his shock and he pinches himself hard, willing both himself and his magic to calm down.

The room stills but Prince Louis’ eyes are still locked on him and he takes a few careful steps, still wary about what his magic might do if he gets nearer. He’s never seen his magic react to someone like that—sure, he knows that his magic is capable of making a room shake but his magic has never taken the initiative to do so on its own.

When he reaches the table, there are four pairs of eyes on him. Lottie’s eyes, however, are staring at Felicite in a mixture of worry and disbelief. Even a little guilt, actually. Harry wonders why just for a brief second and looks to the second oldest Princess in the family for answers.

Felicite herself is just smiling, even if it’s just barely there. Harry doesn’t really pay attention to it as much as he should though; it’s just a minor detail that catches his eyes. His main focus is on how Louis Tomlinson is staring at him with parted lips and wide eyes.

He refuses to let his first impression on the Prince be completely terrible so he fixes a crooked grin on to his face. “Hi, I’m Harry Styles. I’m from _Direction_ newspaper and it’s really nice to finally meet you,” Harry says earnestly and ignores the image of Louis crying that’s flashing behind his eyelids.

“I’m Prince Louis. Sorry about the whole plate thing, something about the plumbing’s off in this place. Happens all the time,” Louis says, voice loud in the quiet room.

In the back of his mind, he lets that sentence repeat in his head and he can’t help when he asks, “This happens _often_? Because of the plumbing?” in disbelief.

Louis nods and Harry is taken back. Why would something that just happened because of his magic happen often because of the plumbing? That doesn’t even make any sense. He wants to ask more about it but he doesn’t because he isn’t sure what he would say.

Louis keeps staring at him before he tilts his head quizzically. “You’re from _Direction_?” Louis repeats and Harry nods. Then he catches Daisy waving at him wildly and he waves back.

The Prince’s eyes track the motion and he looks bemused. “You’re like seventeen,” Louis says in disbelief. Harry raises an eyebrow and looks down at himself. He doesn’t look seventeen. Princess Charlotte is seventeen, and he hasn’t looked like that in—well, five years.

“I’m twenty two actually. Legal, in case you were wondering,” Harry drawls in a dry voice and Louis blinks in surprise.

“I wasn’t, but that’s nice to know,” Louis agrees, and Harry has to work to keep the flush from crawling up his neck.

“Well I can assure you that I’m fit for this job, your Highness,” Harry informs, keeping the smile on his face even when he just wants to crawl into a ball and maybe hide under the table.

Prince Louis is definitely more beautiful in real life. It sort of hurts to look at him. He’s tanned to perfection and Harry wants to lick all of him.

His cheekbones are high up on his face while lower down, he has scruff which Harry definitely would not mind feeling as they scratch along the sensitive skin of his thighs. His lips are thin and pink while his nose is tiny and slightly upturned—the Prince in general is tiny. He’s sitting but Harry bets if he was standing, he’d be a good few inches shorter than him.

Every time Louis so much as blinks, his eyelashes brush against his cheekbones and his eyes are a clear cerulean blue. He is absolutely stunning and Harry thinks the next two months are going to be the longest of his entire life.

He watches as Louis licks his lips before replying, “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”

There’s a beat of silence where the room feels electrically charged but then Daisy breaks it. “You can sit next to me, Princess Harry!” she exclaims, even though she’s less than a foot away.

Harry winces a little because now the Prince is staring at him in amusement but then he smiles indulgently down at her.

“I would love to, Daisy,” he says, before sitting down in the seat beside her.

“This is your official seat now. I called dibs on you last night,” Daisy whispers, glaring at her other three sisters meaningfully which leads to Felicite giggling and Phoebe scowling.

“That isn’t fair,” Louis says from the head of the table and Harry’s head snaps up in surprise. “I wasn’t here last night. What if I wanted to call dibs?”

Daisy’s glare becomes harsher. “Well, if you had been there maybe you would’ve been able to,” she snaps, sinking lower in her seat and Louis looks properly chastised.

Harry thinks he sort of deserves to feel bad considering he was out getting drunk while his sisters were probably expecting to get tucked in at night. He doesn’t say anything though because while he’s here to make judgments, he isn’t here to delve into things that aren’t any of his business.

“I’m really sorry, Daisy,” Louis apologizes quietly and Daisy sighs, turning to give Harry an exasperated look which nearly makes him snort but he refrains for the sake of not getting fired on his second day.

When Harry doesn’t do anything but shrug, she sighs again and picks up a piece of bread. “Alright, I forgive you. But I already called dibs, so you’re going to have to deal with it,” she informs, lips twisting into a stubborn pout.

Louis pouts back and Harry wants to die right there and then because everyone in this family is abnormally cute. It isn’t fair at all.

“Can’t we do a recount or something?” Louis wonders, reaching over to steal the piece of bread out of Daisy’s hands.

“Hey!” she protests, blinking in disbelief. Phoebe giggles from her other side and Daisy retaliates by stealing the bread off of Phoebe’s plate.

That starts off a round of yelling and the two girls are abruptly shouting in each other’s faces. Harry looks over at Louis who is watching them with wide eyes, all while chewing on Daisy’s bread.

Harry lets out a startled laugh in surprise and Louis’ eyes flit to him. “Want some?” Louis offers, ripping a piece off and Harry hesitates only briefly before shaking his head.

“That’s alright,” he replies. “Bread is only good when it’s soggy and you’re in the shower.”

That earns him five disgusted looks, even Phoebe and Daisy stopping their fight to stare at him in blatant revulsion. “ _What_?” Felicite asks, looking down at her own bread in horror.

“It’s true,” Harry says, shrugging his shoulder. He feels a flush creeping up his face as he speaks and he hopes he doesn’t look too stupid. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“No, absolutely not,” Louis groans, looking pointedly at Phoebe who looks like she might be considering it. He turns back to Harry. “What are you even talking about? Why have you _tried_ that?”

“My flatmate doesn’t know how to work a toaster,” Harry explains and even Lottie looks confused now.

Louis shakes his head. “Well all of us Tomlinsons know how to work a toaster, so please, if you need some just ask any of us. I promise we’ll always be available to toast some bread for you.”

Harry laughs at that. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. Very kind of you to offer,” Harry tells him but all the while, he’s wondering if he can somehow put that in his resume.

“Louis is very kind,” Phoebe agrees, expression serious and Louis’ face turns incredibly fond as he stares at her.

“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently and Harry wants to coo but he figures that’s probably weird so he just settles on making his own fond face at the two of them. Phoebe grins brightly back at him when she notices and it’s all just very sweet.

Liam walks in then and he claps his hands, making them all start. Louis blinks a few times like he’s remembering where he is or maybe even _who_ he is and he straightens up in his seat.

“Oh, wonderful! You’ve met Harry, then,” Liam says, taking his own seat next to Felicite who smiles at him, before she resumes eating her food.

Louis gives him an incredibly dry look. “Yes, I’ve met Harry who you so wonderfully happened to neglect to mention, thanks.”

Liam smiles cheerfully back. Harry admires his strength. If Louis were to stare at Harry like that he would actually just disappear into a puff of smoke and then go cry to himself. “I told you the journalist was coming yesterday,” Liam reminds, taking a piece of bacon from Felicite who offers her whole plate. Liam shakes her head at her before turning to give Louis a pointed look.

“Yeah, but that was _yesterday_. It’s _today_ and the journalist is sitting at the dining table with me. A little more warning might’ve been appreciated.” Louis is still giving Liam a dry look. Harry is still crying on the inside. The world goes on.

“What do I look like? I’m just here for Felicite, if you couldn’t tell. We’re in a torrid love affair, actually,” Liam tells him, grabbing Felicite’s hand pointedly who laughs, letting him.

Daisy perks up at that, shaking her head. “Zayn will bite you! Don’t let him hear that!” She warns but it’s too late because as she speaks, the tan man walks into the room.

“Let me hear what?” he asks, dropping a kiss onto Phoebe and Daisy’s heads before taking a seat next to Harry. “Harry, pass me the eggs, would you?”

“That I’m in a torrid love affair with Liam, apparently,” Felicite informs as Harry passes Zayn the plate of scrambled eggs.

He thinks he should probably eat too so he busies himself with preparing himself a plate while the conversation continues around him.

“You’re cheating on me with a fifteen year old?” Zayn asks, holding a hand to his chest dramatically but he’s smiling and Harry chokes on his eggs a little bit. He didn’t know they were together and that might’ve been nice to know a little beforehand. He thinks he understands what Louis meant before about having a fair warning.

“She’s cute,” Liam defends and Felicite rolls her eyes, pulling her hand back. Lottie is quiet, poking at her own eggs and Harry wonders how he can get her to talk.

“Zayn’s cuter,” Felicite replies and Liam scoffs, shaking his head.

“We don’t know the same Zayn,” Liam says and this time Zayn scoffs but everything is light and playful and Harry is one hundred percent sure they’re playing footsies under the table.

In the corner of his eye, Harry catches Louis watching the pair fondly and he has to hide his own smile by shoving a piece of toast in his mouth unattractively.

Unfortunately for him, that’s exactly when Louis decides to look over at him.

Louis raises his eyebrows and Harry offers him a shrug, swallowing before speaking. “Us commoners aren’t used to toast,” and that makes Louis let out a sharp laugh.

Harry is definitely putting that on his list of achievements in life, right above learning how to talk. Not everyone can say they made Louis Tomlinson laugh.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Louis apologizes before smiling like he isn’t sure he’s supposed to. Harry offers a grin back and his fork clatters to the ground by itself. Well, if by itself means after Harry’s magic decided to catapult it to the floor, then that sounds about right.

He bends down to get it and confirms that yes, Liam and Zayn are indeed play footsies. When he straightens back up, Liam starts to talk, addressing them all.

“Alright, this is the plan for today. Louis, you have a meeting in about an hour so you need to get ready for that. Lottie, you and Felicite have to go to prepare to go to that charity ball thing later tonight. Daisy and Phoebe, you’re both due for your monthly haircuts with Lou a little later but then you’re free the rest of the day. Does that sound good?”

All of the Tomlinsons nod and Harry wonders if he should be taking notes. He probably should be. His journal is back upstairs though and he debates whether he wants to climb all those stairs or not.

It turns out he doesn’t really have a choice. “Harry, you go with Louis because that’s, like, your job. So, yeah. Just be ready as soon as you can. Now everyone go!” Liam shoos them and Harry watches amusedly as each of the Tomlinsons does exactly that.

Then Liam is staring pointedly at him, one eyebrow raised and Harry makes a face before sulkily getting up. He hears Zayn chuckle next to him and he doesn’t think before sticking his tongue out. Then he proceeds to skip away merrily.

When he gets to his room, he takes a deep breath. He just met the Prince of Wales. No big deal. No big deal at all.

His magic begs to differ because things start flying wildly across the room. Harry ducks as a shirt goes shooting past his head and he lets out a distressed noise.

He’s usually _so_ in control of his magic. This type of stuff hasn’t happened since he was eighteen and just looking at spell books for the first time. He’s going to have to call Paul and ask what the hell is happening to him because he really doesn’t know.

After he calms down, he grabs his phone off of the bedside table and shoots Niall a text; _Just met Louis Tomlinson. It’s only 10am. Woo._

He knows Niall won’t see it until two in the afternoon because unlike Harry, Niall can sleep in all day if he pleases. But then again, Niall doesn’t get to see Louis Tomlinson laugh. It’s an even trade.

He slides his phone into his pockets before taking his journal out of the drawer. He’s never used a journal for his assignments before but he bought this one especially for this. He makes sure to grab a pen too and before he thinks twice, he sketches a few stars into the corner of the journal.

When someone knocks on the door, he jumps in surprise. He grabs his jacket, putting his arms through the sleeves before grabbing his scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He ends up sticking the journal in his pocket before opening the door.

One of the guards is standing there and he nods gruffly at Harry when he sees him. “Mr. Payne has requested for you to come down, if you’re ready.”

Harry smiles. “I am. Lead the way,” he tells him and the guard nods again before leading Harry back down the stairs. They end up outside and then Harry is in another limo.

Two limousine rides in less than twenty four hours. He’s living the posh life.

He busies himself with taking his phone out again and this time sending a message in his family group message, copying and pasting what he said to Niall. Gemma replies almost immediately with just a _don’t act so cool we all know you’re fanboying on the inside_ to which Harry replies with an annoyed face emoji.

He really loves emojis.

Harry is too invested in looking through emojis that he doesn’t realize someone’s outside the door until they’re opening it and sliding in.

He drops his phone in surprise and then fumbles to grab it, muttering, “Oops,” under his breath. A pair of hands beats him to it and Harry straightens back up as they hand him his phone.

“Hi,” says Louis Tomlinson and Harry is a loss of words for what seems to be the hundredth time that day.

He blinks a few times before it occurs to him to reply. “You’re in the car with me. You’re—oh, um, hello?” He stutters and Louis laughs at him, eyes full of mirth. The door closes and Harry flinches.

“I am in the car with you, yes,” Louis confirms, leaning back in his seat. He’s wearing a suit and he looks so good that Harry might cry. He’s in touching distance of Prince Louis in a suit. It’s almost as if all of his wet dreams have suddenly come true.

“Are you—did you get in the wrong car?” Harry hesitates to ask and Louis shakes his head, smiling. It’s a professional smile—Harry knows it well.

“I figured that I might as well get to know you if we’re going to be spending two months together and it’s also a perfect opportunity for you to get to know me,” Louis explains, smiling with his teeth this time.

Harry narrows his eyes but doesn’t comment on how stilted it all feels. “Yeah, alright,” he agrees. “What did you have in mind? A game of twenty one questions or something?”

Louis blinks at Harry before he gets a weird look on his face. “I was going to suggest just that, actually.”

It takes all the will power Harry has to not bash his head into the seat. He was hoping this wouldn’t happen but it’s clear that it is and Harry is powerless (he knows that someone, somewhere is laughing at the irony) to do anything to stop it.

From what he’s gathered, it seems Louis wants to do this the professional way and get everything out of the way as soon as possible. It’s the exact opposite of what Simon told him to do—he said make friends. That’s what Harry genuinely wants to do as well but it seems him and the Prince aren’t on the same page.

That’s okay though, Harry has a few tricks up his sleeve. If he has to charm the Prince into liking him, so be it. Plus, Harry’s likable—or at least he likes to think so because the other possibility makes him sad.

“Alright, twenty one questions it is. Both of us have to answer the question though, no matter who’s asking,” Harry declares and Louis nods slowly.

“That seems fair.”

It really isn’t, considering Harry is shameless about everything that isn’t his magic. He literally has nothing else to hide. He’s quite the open spell book.

“Me first?” Louis asks and Harry nods. The brown haired man purses his lips, thinking. “What’s your favorite movie?” he settles on asking, and Harry jolts as the car starts to move.

He thinks Louis hides a smile but he isn’t sure. “Mine is _Love Actually_ , but we’ll pretend I said _Fight Club_ ,” Harry says and Louis raises an eyebrow but doesn’t do much other than that.

“Mine is Grease. I really love it, if I’m being honest. Actually, Felicite did it as her play for school! It was this huge theater production,” Louis rambles and Harry briefly remembers the day of his interview not even three weeks ago, when he was watching the royal family attend said play. Now he’s living with them. His life astonishes even him.

“It’s a great movie,” Harry agrees. “Olivia Newton-John is truly an amazing woman. My turn then?”

Louis nods and Harry smirks, before asking, “Should I get out my list of questions out then? I have about fifty of them, if you’re willing. I think they’re in my pocket.”

That makes Louis’ eyes widen and he grimaces before fixing another professional smile on his face. “Yeah, of course!”

Harry snorts, before shaking his head. “I was kidding. Don’t look so excited,” he teases and Louis flushes a pretty pink color. Harry averts his gaze because he doesn’t want to seem too weird just yet. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

Louis actually considers this one, a thoughtful expression on his face and Harry waits, playing with a loose string at the knee of his jeans. He frowns at them, wondering why he didn’t patch them up after all. He’ll have to ask Liam for duct tape or something later.

“I like playing football,” Louis offers, still thinking. “I also like spending time with my sisters, so I’m not sure. Maybe even watching television shows. I’ve recently become acquainted with Netflix and _Breaking Bad_ is pretty good.”

Harry tilts his head and he wonders how complex Louis is exactly—how many layers there are to him and what it would take to get him to strip them all down until he was just bare.

It’s too early to be thinking like that so he just smiles reassuringly at Louis. “You’re a little behind on the times, aren’t you? I think I’ve been obsessed with Netflix for years now. I’m currently watching _Gossip Girl_ ,” Harry informs and Louis smirks.

“Gossip Girl? What a bad man,” he teases and Harry feels blood rush to his face.

He doesn’t reply to that, instead sticking to their deal before he says, “My favorite thing to do is write poems.”

That makes Louis’ expression turn thoughtful again and he’s looking at Harry a little curiously now. “Can I read one someday?”

Harry laughs nervously and shrugs. “I mean, if you want to,” he replies, before ducking his head. “They’re not that good.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a minute before he finally breaks the silence with, “Any secret talents?”

That makes Harry’s heart crawl up his throat and he reminds himself that Louis _doesn’t_ know about his magic. There is absolutely no possible way for Louis to know and that isn’t why he’s asking. “I can juggle,” Harry announces and Louis nods appreciatively.

“That’s cool. I can sing, a little. I’m not great or anything but, I’m decent, yeah,” Louis mumbles before he smiles deprecatingly. Harry knows right from there that Louis is a better actor than most people give him credit for.

There’s a reason he can smile shyly like this at Harry now and then drunkenly cry himself to sleep at night and that’s because Louis knows what Harry knows. That you have to pretend sometimes, whether you want to or not and the fact Louis knows this makes Harry feel like he’s hollow.

Louis already gives so much of himself every day and the fact that he has to give away more by having to act happy—that makes Harry mad. Louis shouldn’t have to pretend, not after he came out. He shouldn’t have to do anything and this is all so fucked up that Harry wants to scream.

“That’s cool,” Harry says and he hopes his voice doesn’t come across as angry as he feels. Apparently not because Louis is still smiling. It seems Harry is a good actor too sometimes. “What’s your favorite book?”

It goes on like that for a while, trading answers to things that are irrelevant and Harry isn’t really listening to Louis’ answers as much as he’s watching Louis.

The smaller man is captivating—he has a presence. Just another reason he should be the king in Harry’s book and it’s one he plans on including in his report.

Halfway through the game, Louis loosens up and Harry watches the professional act turn to dust in front of his eyes. Soon, Louis has him giggling and he has Louis smiling fondly.

When Louis asks, “Sexuality?” though, Harry pouts.

“That’s not fair, I already know yours,” he whines and Louis chuckles, shaking his head with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“You have to follow the rules, Harry,” Louis reminds, grinning and Harry wonders if it would be treason to punch Louis. Probably.

Harry sighs and he notices that the car is slowing down. This is probably their last question anyways. “I don’t really define my sexuality, I guess. I just like who I like. I don’t care what gender or anything like that. A person is a person, you know? If I had to call it something, I think the term I would apply is pansexual,” Harry answers and Louis looks intrigued.

The car halts to a stop and Louis throws an arm out, stopping Harry from opening the door. “Let me get this straight—and don’t make the joke—but you like both guys and girls? It just doesn’t matter to you?”

Harry sticks his tongue out because he was _definitely_ going to make the joke before Louis said not to. Instead he agrees, “Yeah, pretty much. People are people and I love people. Who cares what gender or race or age? Love is love.”

Louis is looking at him a little bit in awe now and Harry could die happily, honestly. Maybe he’ll write a poem about it. _Happily_ featuring a section about how he’s pretty sure he’s on fire with the way his veins are burning.

“You’re alright, Harry,” Louis murmurs before opening the door himself and stepping out. Harry stares after him before taking a deep breath and following.

They’re ushered into the huge building which Harry belatedly realizes is Buckingham Palace and within ten minutes they’re in a meeting where Harry sits in a corner and takes notes tepidly. He ends up writing a poem instead and he knows he should probably be paying more attention but it’s just the second day.

_today I met a man that is still a boy / not in the way expected, but the ways that are not / he is strong and he is mature / his smile is bright and does not falter / but there is something in his eyes that tells me he is scared / the man is not a man / but a five year old still clutching his teddy bear_

Harry keeps his eyes on Louis a lot.

He watches him—watches the way he speaks and the way he moves. He uses his hands and he’s quick and effective, getting straight to the point. The people around him are listening—not just pretending to listen but actually listening. They’re watching Louis and if Louis was the sun, they would be the planets revolving around him.

It reminds Harry of what he was thinking before. Louis has a presence—he can captivate a room full of people with one sentence or even just a smile. There’s just something about him that draws people to him and he milks it for all its worth.

Harry doesn’t know much about politics other than the minimum research he’s done but he can’t see how people wouldn’t want Louis as a leader. He knows nowadays, the royal family isn’t actually in charge compared to like, the Prime Minister or summat but at the same time, they’re still icons for the British public. It’s obvious that Louis was born to be a leader—it’s in the way he breathes in and out, steady.

That makes Harry want to punch someone though—especially the head of Parliament. How can people not _see_ that Louis is fit for the throne—hell, he could probably take over the world with that smile. It’s possible that Harry’s point of view is a bit subjective but at the same time, he know it’s true and that he’s right.

Louis was meant to be king and Harry knows from right then that he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that Louis gets there.

Now, Harry can explain the story of how he came to fall in love with Louis Tomlinson. It starts the very next day.

 

**Week 2**

**Day 3; Sunday, May 4th, 2014.**

 

It’s a Sunday which means it’s Harry’s day off. He stays in bed until around one in the afternoon at which point he goes down to the kitchen wearing pajama pants and an old band t-shirt. He yawns and waves to Cher, a girl who’s his age but still somehow the head cook for the Palace. Whatever; it’s too early for Harry to be questioning things.

He grabs a few fruits before heading back to his room.

Harry’s tired—he spent the night before starting the introduction for the article. He’d gotten halfway through it before looking at the clock on the bedside table which read _4:30_ in blinking red letters. He emailed what he had so far to Leigh before shutting off his laptop and crawling into bed.

There wasn’t a repeat of the night before with a crying prince outside his room—instead Louis dropped by around ten to tell Harry goodnight, wearing his own pajama pants and an oversized jumper. He smiled tiredly before disappearing.

Harry proceeded to pinch himself as his magic flared—it’s becoming something of a ritual now.

Right now though, Harry settles back into bed while biting into an apple. He opens up skype on his laptop and when he sees Niall online, he presses on video call.

A blonde head pops up a minute later, accompanied by bleary blue eyes. “It’s too early, Haz,” Niall complains, shoving his head into their couch cushions. Harry misses that couch just a little.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Niall,” Harry reminds, crossing his legs and putting his laptop in front of him. Niall groans on the screen before resting his head on his elbows and giving Harry a dry look.

“Alright, alright. Two in the afternoon. I care,” Niall yawns before speaking again. “How’re you holding up over there?”

Harry grins then. “Niall, yesterday the Prince of Wales wished me goodnight. Me.”

Niall snorts in reply, shaking his head. “You’ve got the biggest crush ever, mate. I’m going to laugh when it becomes the inevitable downfall of your sanity.”

“Hey,” Harry protests even though somewhere in the back of his mind he knows it’s true. “Don’t be mean.”

That makes his best friend roll his eyes. “Didn’t realize I was speaking to royalty,” Niall replies dryly and Harry sticks his tongue out at him petulantly.

“For all you know, I could be one day. Three out of four of the Princesses have taken a fancy to me,” he says but he knows he would never even think about any of them in that way.

Niall squints curiously though. “You aren’t one to do things halfway though. Or three fourths of the way, I guess. Why doesn’t the last Princess like you?”

“Dunno, mate,” Harry shrugs. “Don’t think she likes much of anyone, really. ‘S a bit a weird actually but far be it for me to judge someone on whether they’re weird.”

“Which one is it? Bet it’s that one—what’s her name? Felicite? Is it her?” Niall guesses and Harry snorts.

He know it’s probably bad to choose favorites, but Daisy is definitely his favorite. After her, is Felicite and then, it’s Phoebe. Last is Lottie because Harry doesn’t even feel like he knows her enough to say anything about her really.

“Nah,” Harry shakes his head. “Felicite’s a sweetheart. It’s Charlotte. She’s really quiet and withdrawn though, so who really knows?” He shrugs again.

Niall makes a humming noise of understanding. “Well I always knew there would be someone you couldn’t charm the pants off of,” Niall concludes and Harry wishes his magic could pass right through the computer but that’s not how it works, so he can’t hit Niall no matter how much he wants.

“I’m going to hang up on you,” Harry threatens but it’s an empty threat and they both know it if Niall’s raised eyebrow is anything to go by.

The rest of the skype call goes the same way until Niall has to hang up because he has a date with a girl named Barbara. Harry has met her all of once—but she was lovely and Harry wishes Niall good luck with a wink to which Niall scoffs and calls Harry a prat before hanging up.

All in all, it makes Harry feel nostalgic, despite it having been three days. He sighs, opening a new tab on his laptop. He’s doing some more research about the Parliament when someone knocks on the door.

Harry hesitates before saying, “Come in!”

It’s Zayn, who pokes his head through the door and grins brightly. Harry is helpless but to return the grin. “So I heard yesterday, Liam gave you a tour,” Zayn says and Harry nods. “I thought I’d give you the unofficial tour.”

Harry tilts his head in confusion before repeating, “The unofficial tour?”

Zayn nods enthusiastically, pushing Harry’s door open further. “You’ve seen the basic stuff. Now, come on. I need to show you the arcade and then the room for my graffiti and then the secret hallways and—“

That makes Harry raise his eyebrows curiously. “Secret hallways?”

In reply, Zayn grins wider before beckoning for Harry to join him so he does, even though he’s still in his pajamas. It’s whatever—not like he’s going to run into Prince Louis. Surely, the prince has better things to do.

He grabs his journal just in case and if Zayn has anything to say about that, he keeps his mouth shut. Harry appreciates that and follows after the tanner man.

It occurs to him that the palace really is huge as they duck underneath a cathedral that Harry definitely missed yesterday. It’s quite clear that Zayn knows his way around with the way he doesn’t look remotely lost while Harry is just trying to take in everything around him.

Zayn shows Harry his own room at some point of the tour too and it’s this huge room with dozens of paintings. The smell of fumes hits them the second they enter the room.

“How do you sleep in here?” Harry asks, batting his hand in front of his face while squinting because his eyes have started to water.

Zayn laughs as if Harry has told him the funniest joke. “I don’t,” He replies, eyes twinkling and Harry has a coughing fit as he realizes what that means.

Of course, that makes Zayn laugh harder and Harry just flushes, saying nothing else. He should have figured Zayn and Liam sleep in the same room—it was only common sense. From what Harry’s seen, the pair are like an old married couple. Harry would even go as far as calling them the mother and father of this close knit family of theirs.

When he says as much, Zayn scowls. “Not you _too_. Louis keeps calling me _mum_ sarcastically and I’m this close to punching that pretty smile right off his face,” Zayn grumbles and Harry giggles.

“Sorry, _mum_ ,” Harry replies and then steps away when Zayn makes a move to slap his arm.

It’s nice. It makes Harry forget how he’s feeling a little homesick and Zayn is good company. Plus, the unofficial version of the tour is much cooler than the official and the room with the Jacuzzi is one that Harry marks down in his journal—for no reason in particular, of course.

They’re in some secret hallway when they come to a locked door. Zayn tries the knob and then sighs when it doesn’t open.

Harry is about to suggest they just go to a different part of the castle but then someone’s eyes are blinking at him through a flap in the door he hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s the password?” the girl asks and Harry comes to the realization it’s Phoebe.

Zayn’s face turns incredibly serious then and he leans down towards her eyes before whispering, “The purple banana goes quack quack.”

Harry has to slap his hand over his mouth to makes sure he doesn’t laugh because _what_ did he really just hear a grown man say that the purple banana goes quack quack? All the same, knowing himself, it’s probably exactly the type of password he would come up with so he’s in no place to judge.

It’s the right password though because the door unlocks and Phoebe is standing in the doorway with a grin on her face. She jumps right into Zayn’s arms without warning and the tanner man laughs, hoisting her onto his waist.

“Having an alright day then?” Zayn wonders, walking into the room and Harry hesitates in the doorway.

Daisy spots him then, running up to him and grabbing his hand. “Harry!” she squeals and Harry bends down to tap her nose.

“Hi Daisy,” Harry greets and she smiles delightedly.

“Do you want to come in? I know you don’t know the password but we haven’t told you yet, so that’s okay,” she relents and Harry makes a face of understand, before nodding.

“I would be honored to come in,” Harry replies earnestly and her smile widens.

This is clearly Daisy and Phoebe’s secret hideout, because when he takes a glance inside the room he sees play houses and dolls, along with a bunch of stuffed animals lined up on the shelves.

Harry straightens back up and Daisy pulls him inside by the hand, before shutting the door behind him and locking it.

He isn’t paying attention though because he catches sight of Louis Tomlinson sitting on a beanbag in joggers, laptop on the floor in front of him and a bored look on his face.

Phoebe is behind him, tugging on random strands of his hair and making what looks like a failed attempt at a braid. Harry isn’t really too sure.

“Oh,” Harry murmurs in surprise, a late reaction because Daisy has already moved on to talking to Zayn who’s standing in the middle of the room.

Louis hears him though and he looks up curiously before his eyes widen and his lips part.

There’s a moment of silence before Louis indignantly glowers—it isn’t directed at him though so it’s alright, sort of. “ _Zayn_.”

Zayn glances over with his own bored expression before he takes in the sight of Louis. Then his eyes flicker to Harry quickly before back to Louis. At that point, Zayn starts laughing— _really_ laughing.

Harry is actually a bit worried on whether the dark haired man is even breathing, because he’s wheezing through his laughter now. Harry is also confused as to what’s funny.

He doesn’t get the chance to ask though because Zayn gestures at the door between his laughs and says, “Liam and I—we have that thing. I need to go.”

That makes Harry even more confused because Louis’ glower turns into a full out glare and somehow, Zayn is laughing even harder as he unlocks the door and slips out.

Harry blinks after him and his mouth feels dry as he turns back to Louis. “Erm, I can go too if you want—“ He starts but Louis shakes his head immediately and looks shocked by the movement himself.

Then Louis hesitates before he confirms further, “No, it’s alright. You can stay. Keep me company, even.” He pointedly kicks at a beanbag in front of him which Harry takes as invitation to sit down.

His legs are a bit too long and they almost knock into Louis’ knees when he sits down but he narrowly manages to avoid it. He settles into the seat and keeps his journal placed on his lap.

There’s another moment of awkward silence before Daisy breaks it. “Can I braid your hair, Harry?”

Harry doesn’t even hesitate before nodding and she scrambles towards him. She settles in behind him and he does his best not to wince as she tugs her hands through the knots in his hair.

He can feel Louis watching him amusement and he’s sure he looks a little constipated with the faces that he’s pulling. Apparently, it’s entertaining enough that Louis shuts his laptop closed and sets it off to the side.

“So,” Louis starts and Harry glances up which makes Daisy tug on one of his curls by accident. He does wince this time and Daisy pats him on the shoulder in apology. “Prime bonding time, huh? With our hair being braided and all that?”

It startles a giggle out of Harry and Louis’ face softens.

Harry should probably think twice before speaking, but of course his head to mouth filter isn’t working so what comes out is, “Depends. Do you do this with every boy that comes in here?”

He’s flirting—he’s subtly flirting and he knows he shouldn’t be but he is.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind though because his eyes crinkle at the corners as he nods. “Of course. The Prime Minister and I have had a fair share of braids in our time.”

This time a sharp laugh falls from Harry’s lips and he can’t help it. Louis is all quick tongues and sharp wits and Harry is incredibly besotted.

“You’re only two years older than me,” Harry reminds, “Don’t act all high and mighty.” He says it with a teasing lilt to his voice and Louis grins.

“You wound me deep with your words,” Louis replies, holding a hand to his chest which he seems to regret immediately because Phoebe tugs too sharply on a stand of his hair and he cringes.

Harry offers him a sympathetic look before saying, “Someone needs thicker skin,” playfully and Louis’ eyes are so incredibly bright when they stare back at Harry’s that he feels slightly faint.

He pinches the skin on his wrist as a precaution.

“Are you trying to insinuate something, Styles? Don’t get cheeky with me.” One of Louis’ toes poke Harry and Harry nearly jumps out of his skin.

Daisy smacks his shoulder as a reprimand. Harry wants to offer an apology but Louis is laughing silently in front of him, hand covering his mouth with his shoulders shaking and Harry can’t look away.

“You remind me of a bird,” Louis says after a moment and Harry is still blinking away the shock of Louis touching him that he almost doesn’t catch it.

“A bird? Why a bird?” Harry wonders and Louis shrugs, a small smile on his lips.

It seems Phoebe has given up behind him because she just throws up her hands in a sign of resignation and walks over to her dolls.

Daisy’s hands falter in his own hair and then she pats him on the back before going to join her sister. He barely notices because Louis starts talking again. “You look you might fly away at any second. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad,” Louis offers quietly, a speculative look on his face and Harry feels his face flush.

“Don’t have any wings,” Harry offers weakly and Louis shakes his head, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t think you need any.”

There isn’t much that Harry can say to that so he just shrugs his shoulders. “I like chicken wings though,” Harry informs, because of course; that is what he would say— _of course_.

It makes Louis laugh though, eyes crinkling and head thrown back. It’s such a pretty sight he almost misses the argument taking place a little to his left.

He notices though, that Phoebe and Daisy are fighting over a doll. They both look frustrated and Phoebe has the doll in her arms, holding it away from Daisy who’s making grabby hands.

“Give me it! You got to play with it yesterday!” Daisy complains, lunging for the doll again and Phoebe steps away so she can’t get it.

“No! I got it first,” Phoebe protests, holding the doll to her chest with a frown on her face.

Daisy glowers and her eyes turn gold—it isn’t a trick of the sunlight. Her eyes definitely turn gold and then a stuffed elephant falls from the shelf above the pair, hitting Phoebe in the head.

It shouldn’t hurt but Phoebe hesitates all of one beat of silence before throwing the doll onto the floor and wailing loudly. That gets Louis’ attention in front of him too because in seconds, he’s up and across the room, pulling her into his arms.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you alright?” Louis murmurs, kissing her forehead and she shakes her head. She glares over at Daisy who looks on with a pout.

Louis gives Daisy his own look to which her pouts only grows. Then he turns towards Harry, lips curled down in a frown. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take her to the infirmary, otherwise she won’t talk to anyone else for the rest of the day,” he apologizes and Harry nods in understanding.

He’s still focused on the fact that Daisy’s eyes were glowing gold much like his own tend to do, that when the door slams shut, Harry startles. He turns to look at Daisy who’s staring at the doll on the ground with an upset and bewildered expression on her face.

Harry takes this as initiative to sit up until he’s crouching on his knees. He places his journal on the ground next to him before crawling over to Daisy, moving the doll out of the way so he can kneel in front of her. “Do you want a hug?” Harry asks, opening his arms wide.

Daisy glances up at him and she hesitate briefly before taking up his offer.

She huddles against his chest and he squeezes his arms around her. There’s a moment of silence until Daisy whispers, “I didn’t mean for the elephant to fall,” and her voice is full of remorse. Harry swallows hard as he thinks about what she could _possibly_ mean by that. There aren’t many options to consider.

“But you weren’t touching the elephant, Daisy. It was on the shelf. I saw it fall,” Harry reminds and he wonder if she’ll take the easy way out. It doesn’t matter because her golden eyes can’t be unseen.

She doesn’t take the bait though. Her response is to shake her head before she pulls out of his grasp. “It’s my fault though,” she mumbles, hanging her head in shame.

That confirms all Harry needs to know. Daisy’s expression reminds him of himself, ten years ago when he accidently set Gemma’s cupcakes on fire just because she wouldn’t let him have one. He didn’t even touch it—he just glared for a few seconds and it burst into flames. He knew exactly whose fault it was and he felt inexplicably guilty even though it hadn’t been exactly intentional. He baked her a new batch in apology. Daisy looks the same as he did though, ducking her head and refusing to meet his eyes.

Harry sighs again, sitting back on his legs. “Daisy, why do you think it’s your fault?” He presses and this time, she doesn’t reply.

She stays utterly silent, head still ducked and a small frown on her face which is probably a good thing considering she’s one of the Princess Royals and if she were more open about these things, they’d all be in trouble.

Harry isn’t sure whether he should ask further questions and whether she’ll willingly give more information. Obviously Daisy isn’t stupid otherwise the press—he is the press right now, ironically—would have gotten hold of this a long time ago. Also, Daisy hasn’t really told him anything—all she said was that she dropped the elephant on Phoebe and most people in Harry’s place would probably assume she just thinks that because it fell while they were in the middle of the fight.

That’s probably what Daisy is betting on Harry thinking.

Most people aren’t Harry though. They don’t know what he does. They don’t know about golden eyes and burning blood.

Harry’s eyes widen as he realizes _that’s it_.

He needs to let Daisy know that _he_ knows. It goes against everything Harry knows to speak about magic freely but he takes a deep breath and does it anyways. He’s the adult in this situation.

“Can I take a guess?” Harry asks and it catches Daisy’s attention because she blinks up at him. “Sometimes things just happen to you, don’t they? You want things to happen and they just do. It feel like something’s burning you but there’s no pain?”

That makes Daisy’s head snap up and then she starts nodding vigorously, almost overeager. “That’s exactly what it is!” she exclaims before pointedly lowering her voice. “And also the scary dreams.”

Harry blinks a little, thrown off by those words. He’s unsure of what to say in reply. He remembers Paul telling him once that some sorceresses have the ability to see ahead into the future through their dreams but he’s never actually met someone like that.

Then again, he’s met all of two—three if Simon counts—magical beings in his life and that isn’t a lot of experience. Now he knows Daisy.

Another thought passes through his head then. “What about your sisters? Are they like you too? Do they have bad dreams?” Harry wonders.

Daisy nods. She looks like she wants to say more so Harry waits patiently for her to continue. She bites her lower lip before muttering, “They’re not always scary. I saw you. I knew you were coming.”

Harry is confused into silence because as far as he knows, people like her, _seers_ , only see things that are important and impact their own lives. He absolutely does not want to think of what Daisy’s dream meant so he pushes it from his mind. Instead he asks, “Have you had any other dreams like that?”

Her response is to shrug. “No, not anything else big. Lottie has those.”

That startles Harry further because suddenly it makes a lot more sense. It explains why Lottie is so withdrawn and always so terrified. Harry imagines being seventeen without Niall and his mum. Instead, having three younger versions of his sister who know just about as much as magic as he does—which is a negligible amount—and doing all of it while being under constant watch by the entirety of England.

Harry thinks he might be sick.

He clenches his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Can you do something for me, Daisy?”

In a matter of seconds, he feels Daisy’s arms wrap around his neck and he wonders how he didn’t feel it before. When she’s hugging him, there’s the same undeniable spark he gets when he’s hugging Gemma. The one that makes him realize _we’re the same_.

He might actually hurl.

Daisy seems to get this because she pats his cheek softly and when he blinks his eyes open, she’s staring at him in concern. “Are you okay, Harry?”

He takes another deep breath, before scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly. “Daisy, when are you and your sisters not busy? Do you think you could get all of them and come talk to me whenever that is?”

She keeps staring at him in concern and that makes Harry feel even more nauseous because an eleven year old shouldn’t know how to look at him like that. She shouldn’t be used to dealing with situations like this. Harry doesn’t even want to think about what could’ve possibly made her perfect the concerned face she’s giving him now. “Okay, Harry,” she agrees softly and he sighs in relief.

“Alright, thank you. I’m going to go my room now, if that’s okay, unless—unless you need me to accompany you to your room?”

Daisy shakes her head, bending down to pick the doll from earlier off the floor. “I’m fine. I’ll see you soon,” she promises and then steps away from him, putting the doll away on one of the lower shelves.

Harry takes that as a cue to leave which he does hastily. He shuts the door behind himself before following the route that Zayn used to bring him there in the first place.

When he gets to his room, the first thing he does is grab his phone and dial a number on the back of a business card in his wallet.

Simon picks up on the first ring. “Harry! How nice of you to call. How are things going over there?”

Harry’s eyes narrow into slits and he hisses down the line, “What the hell, Simon? They all have magic?”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other end before Simon mutters, “Hang on.” There’s the sound of a chair moving and then a lot of background noise that makes Harry hold the phone away from his ear.

He puts the phone back to his ear when Simon speaks again. “It’s the third day you’ve been there. How do you know already?”

Harry’s nostrils flare in response. “Why does that even _matter_? I think the real question is why didn’t you _tell_ me? It would’ve been nice to, oh, I don’t know, have some fair warning?” he says through clenched teeth.

Simon laughs nervously on the other end. “I knew you’d find out eventually. It is part of the reason you were chosen, after all. You’re there to make sure they’re okay as well as to ensure Louis’ position as king.”

He nearly drops the phone in outrage. Instead, he hangs up and then dials a different number. This time the phone rings a few times before Paul answers.

“Harry!” Paul greets cheerfully and Harry feels some of his anger fade.

“Tell me you didn’t know too,” Harry pleads quietly and there’s a beat of silence.

Paul clears his throat on the other end. “I don’t suppose you mean something about medicine?” he tries and when he gets no response from Harry, he sighs. “About their magic?”

“Oh my God,” Harry mutters to himself, taking a seat on his bed lest he fall over—his knees feel pretty wobbly. “You knew.”

He can almost hear Paul wince. “Yes, I knew. I wanted to tell you but Simon said you’d figure it out by yourself and you told me the official version of the story—that you were going to compare their family to the average American family. I figured I might as well let you discover it on your own.”

“What am I even supposed to _do_?” Harry asks incredulously. He keeps a constant pressure on his wrist, right below the sparrow because otherwise he’s afraid the bird won’t be the only thing flying.

“You know what you’re supposed to do, Harry. I know you can handle teaching four girls what’s right and wrong,” Paul soothes on the other end of the line and that does little to help.

“Right and wrong? _I_ don’t even know what’s right and wrong! How am I supposed to teach them?”

Paul sighs again. “Harry, you’ve been able to do this since you were born. Just teach them how to control it.”

“That’s not my _job_!” Harry protests, eyes wide.

“H, come on.” Paul sounds disappointed and that makes Harry want to curl into a ball. He hates disappointing Paul. It’s one of his least favorite things because after all Paul’s done for him, Harry shouldn’t be disappointing him.

“Why can’t Prince Louis teach them?” Harry asks, lips pinching into a frown.

There’s another moment of silence and this time Harry is worried. It seems he has every right to be because Paul’s next words are, “He doesn’t know.”

Harry actually drops his phone in disbelief before scrambling to pick it up. “What do you mean _he doesn’t know_?”

“He doesn’t have magic,” Paul says, voice quiet.

Harry’s doing a bad job of keeping his own volume down so he makes an effort to whisper. “How can he not have magic?”

“Mark Tomlinson isn’t Louis’ dad. Troy Austin is,” Paul reminds and Harry nearly hits himself in the face for forgetting. All of those hours of research and he couldn’t even remember a measly fact like that the girls and Louis have different dads.

“Oh my God,” Harry breathes out before another thoughts floats into his head. “Is no one going to tell him?”

Paul hesitates before mumbling, “That’s your job, H.”

“ _What_?” Harry nearly shouts. “ _No_. My job is making sure that Louis becomes king. That’s what my job is. That’s why I’m here. To write an article. _That’s why I’m here_.” Maybe if he repeats it enough times, it’ll become true.

“You can have more than one job,” Paul tells him softly and Harry thinks this time he might actually throw up. He’s going to need make a hasty run to the bathroom if this conversation keeps going like this.

“Paul, what the _hell_. I can’t tell him that. I don’t even know him!” Harry protests mildly but it’s clear this is a hopeless cause. He knows he’s not going to abandon the girls now, especially since that means losing this job, this chance. He’s so fucked.

“I’m hanging up now,” Harry declares, shutting off his phone before Paul can say anything else and throwing it towards his pillows. He stands up, unsure of whether he should bang his head against the wall or face plant on the ground. Both seem like good options.

Harry isn’t sure how long this is going to take to sink in.

One, all the Princesses of the royal family are sorceresses—amazing. Two, apparently he’s meant to be a mentor to them—even more amazing. Three, he also apparently has to let the Prince know that his sisters are all sorceresses—absolutely, completely, utterly amazing. Four, he’s going to get killed by the end of this. He’s almost positive someone will murder him in his sleep. Everything is just so amazing.

“I’m going to die,” Harry announces to himself and then laughs to himself. It’s not even funny but suddenly he’s laughing so hard, he feels tears in the corners of his eyes. That’s how Felicite finds him.

She opens the door and Harry’s on the ground, rolling around in a fit of laughter. It’s easy to say that she’s alarmed if her expression is anything to go by.

“Are you okay? Is this a bad time? Daisy told me to—are you _okay_?” she asks again, eyes wide and Harry holds a hand up to signal for her to wait as he catches his breath. He wipes underneath his eyes for any tears that might’ve escaped.

“I’m fine,” Harry reassures, a little manically. She doesn’t seem convinced. “Want to shut the door for me?” When she gives him a strange look and turns for the door, he shakes his head. “No, use your magic.”

That makes Felicite freeze and she turns to stare at him incredulously. “Are you high? I know they don’t let you bring drugs into here,” she says, slowly backing towards the door.

Clearly Harry’s approach to this isn’t working so instead he makes an aborted hand motion and he knows his eyes turn gold as the door shuts because Felicite gasps in surprise.

“You’re—you have magic!”sShe hisses, stepping further into the room. Harry shrugs in reply and then he motions for her to sit in the spot in front of him.

“I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t you?” he asks, mustering up as cheer as he can. It’s clear it falls short because Felicite gives him an unconvinced look as she sits down.

“You know,” Felicite says and it isn’t a question. It’s a statement.

Harry nods in agreement. “I do. Now, while we wait for your sisters, why don’t you tell me a little about your story?

—

Lottie is the last one to show up. She knocks hesitantly on the door and Harry calls for her to come in. He knows what she’ll see when she comes in. They have a circle set up, with Daisy and Phoebe on either side of him and Felicite in front of him.

It isn’t nearly as cool as it sounds though. There are no burning candles or salt circles or anything of that sort. It’s just easier to see everyone’s faces when you’re sitting in a circle. Still, Lottie falters when she sees the circle.

“What did you call me here for?” Lottie asks, voice quiet and controlled. Harry admires her for being so strong in the face of all this.

Felicite is the one to answer the question. “I think you’re going to want to hear this,” she murmurs, eyes soft and Lottie’s expression cracks a little, curiosity filtering in.

Lottie closes the door behind her before taking a seat in between Phoebe and Felicite. “What happened? Is this a group interview for his article?” she wonders and Harry nearly laughs because _right, his article._

Phoebe shakes her head from where she is. “Not exactly,” she informs, a small smile on her lips.

Harry thinks that he’s gotten them to all at least trust him. It took a few embarrassing stories involving Gemma and Niall but they don’t seem as wary of him as before. Daisy wasn’t wary at all though, nearly climbing onto Harry’s lap when she came into the room until Felicite told her to act like a civilized person, all while rolling her eyes and smiling fondly.

“Then what is it?” Lottie looks a little confused now and Harry doesn’t blame her.

“Harry knows about us. Our secret,” Daisy pipes up and Lottie’s eyes flash to her in disbelief before they flicker to Harry and then back to her.

“Our _secret_?” Lottie repeats, horror coloring her tone.

“Yes!” Phoebe confirms. “He knows about our dreams and how our eyes glow gold and how we have magic—“

“ _Phoebe_!” Lottie scolds, putting a hand over Phoebe’s mouth who looks confused, muffled words still coming out. “We don’t have magic. She’s just a little kid,” Lottie assures Harry, looking more like she’s trying to convince herself than him.

“Lottie, he knows. He’s seen Daisy do magic,” Felicite deadpans and Lottie’s hand drops dejectedly from Phoebe’s mouth to stare at her in disbelief.

“You let the journalist see Daisy do magic? We’re going to be dissected in _labs_. Are you kidding me?” Lottie basically shrieks and Harry winces. He sees the twins covering their ears exaggeratedly.

Felicite however, looks irritated as she says, “First and foremost, I didn’t let anyone do anything. I wasn’t _there_. Second, Harry isn’t going to put this in his article. Clearly, you haven’t actually spoken to him otherwise you would know that he’s far too nice to do that.”

Lottie glowers. “Of course he seems nice, he’s a journalist. He’s here to divulge our secrets and now he knows our biggest one,” she snaps before she turns to glare at Harry. “I don’t even know a memory spell to make him forget.”

Harry clears his throat, figuring this is as good a time as any to tell her. “I do. I know a memory loss spell. I could teach it to you, if you want.”

That makes Lottie’s glare turn into a blank stare. “What?” She’s still staring blankly. “You can _what_ me?”

He almost laughs but he manages to restrain himself. It seems he isn’t alone in that notion except that Felicite isn’t able to hide her amusement and she snorts.

“Teach,” Harry answers. “I have a few spell books too, if you want to read them.” He shrugs a shoulder. “You’ll probably need a teacher though.”

“... Spell books?”

Harry can’t help the chuckle that slips past his lips. “Yeah, spell books. I don’t know how strong your magic is though, so I’m not sure whether you’ll be able to use them. I mean raw magic, of course, because magic always grows in strength. It’s like a muscle—the more you use it, the stronger it becomes,” Harry muses and Lottie is still staring at him expressionlessly.

She turns to Felicite then. “Does he—does he have magic?”

It makes him smile amusedly that she isn’t addressing him properly but on the inside, he feels a little muffed. He likes to think he’s fairly approachable.

“Yes, he does. And, if you haven’t noticed, he’s really powerful, Lottie. Tell me you can’t feel it. That’s not you or me or the twins. That’s him,” Felicite informs, eyes bright and curious as she smiles at him.

Harry himself has to keep from flushing in embarrassment because it’s one for Paul to tell him how powerful his magic but it’s an entirely different thing for Felicite, Princess Royal to say it.

Lottie blinks in surprise before her own face flickers with curiosity. “Is that—is that you? I was wondering… I thought it might’ve been Felicite growing into her magic. I thought that was her at breakfast yesterday too but that was you as well, wasn’t it?” Lottie realizes, eyes widening.

In response, Harry smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I was a little nervous. Your brother is awfully prettier in real life,” he admits and then he wonders if that was a step too far but Felicite lets out a sharp laugh and Lottie cracks the first smile he’s seen her do.

“He is,” Lottie agrees. “He got all the good genes.”

Then she makes a face and Harry wonders if she thinks that magic is a bad gene. That’s doesn’t settle well with him. “He’s got a lot of good genes, yeah. But you do too. All of you. Your magic is part of who you are and it makes you the best you that you can be. I sound redundant but in all honesty, if you weren’t meant to have magic, you wouldn’t.”

Daisy sighs and throws herself bodily into Harry’s lap. “But we can’t tell anyone,” she says, lips curling down and Harry frowns back.

“But that’s not just you. None of us can tell anyone. We’re different. That doesn’t mean anything bad. It just means we have something others don’t and so they want to know all about it. Maybe one day we can tell them, but that day isn’t today,” Harry tells her carefully, looking around and meeting all the girls’ eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be yourself. You don’t have to hide who you are.”

Lottie sighs, shoulders sagging. “You make it sound too easy. It’s not that easy. We don’t even know how to control our magic. We barely leave the palace and when we do, we have to be on our best behavior. And now that—“ She stops mid-sentence, swallowing hard before continuing. “Now that Mum is dead, it’s worse. I can’t control my magic _at all_. And plus they’re not letting Louis become king and that makes me next in line and I can’t—“

She stops talking and stares at her lap resolutely.

Felicite grabs one of Lottie’s hands and holds on tightly. Harry wants to hurl something at the Parliament. A lot of things actually.

“Alright, let’s make a deal then,” Harry offers and Phoebe perks up. She’s been silent this entire time, watching the conversation curiously.

“What deal?” she asks, pushing her blond hair out of her face to look at Harry excitedly.

Harry waits for Lottie and Felicite to look over as well before he speaks. “How about I do my best to ensure your brother becomes king and I teach you to use your magic? Does that sound good?”

Daisy stirs in his lap to stare at him with big eyes. “But you said it’s a deal. What do you want in return?”

He blinks at her before shrugging. “I don’t want anything, really. Maybe get me on your brother’s good graces. Have I mentioned he’s awfully attractive?”

Lottie snorts, shaking her head. “You’re way too old to be crushing on someone like this,” she mutters absently and Harry pouts.

“I didn’t say I was _crushing_ on him—“

Felicite holds a hand up, shaking her own head but there’s a fond smile on her lips. “Save it. It’s cute. But back to the deal—are you like, serious? You’ll help Louis become king? And you’ll help us?” She sounds unsure and Harry sees Lottie squeeze her hand.

“Helping Louis become king is sort of my job,” Harry jokes. None of them crack a smile but they do look like they might start laughing _at_ him opposed to because of him. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious.”

Daisy shuffles out his lap then, squeezing between him and Phoebe. “Are you like Merlin, then?”

Harry gives her a confused look and she rolls her eyes before expanding. “You know! Merlin? King Arthur’s Merlin? He was Arthur’s adviser and he protected him. Are you going to do that to Louis?”

“Um.” Harry shrugs before offering her a small smile. “I suppose. I mean they are both kings after all.”

Daisy beams at him and then cuddles into Phoebe. They’re both achingly cute. Felicite and Lottie are still holding hands as they look at him with matching considering expressions.

“Are you actually like Merlin then?” Lottie asks. “Greatest sorcerer of our time and all that?”

Harry laughs deprecatingly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I can do magic and I know how to control it. That’s all I need to be able to teach you guys.”

Felicite purses her lips before asking, “Are we going to have lessons? Like an every week sort of thing?”

“Whatever is best for you guys,” Harry answers. He kind of wants to laugh at his life again but he thinks he’ll save that for whenever they leave.

That time seems to be soon because someone knocks on his door and then opens it before Harry can say anything. “Sorry for bursting in but have you seen the girls—“ Louis starts before his eyes land on their mishap circle. He blinks a few times. “Did I miss a memo?” He asks after a moment.

Felicite is quick to slap a smile onto her face before shaking her head. “No, Lou. He was just interviewing us for his article. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

It makes him feel sick all over again at how well she can lie right to her brother’s face. Her brother who Harry apparently has to inform of his sisters’ magic.

“That’s right,” he agrees weakly and Felicite keeps smiling brightly.

Louis looks confused but then he nods. “Oh, okay. Did you need to ask me anything?” he asks Harry and it almost sounds hopeful to Harry’s ears—but then again, Harry is probably hearing what he wants to hear.

“No, just the girls. I need to have weekly interviews with them actually. I hope that’s alright?” he tries and Lottie gives him an impressed look.

Louis furrows his eyebrows before he shrugs. “Far be it for me to tell them what to do. Not like they’d listen anyways,” he says before he chuckles. “You know how sisters are.”

Harry laughs in reply and Felicite looks a little smug, her eyes flickering between them. “I do,” he admits.

Louis smiles and he looks a little unsure as he stands in the doorway. Harry hasn’t seen the unsure side of Louis yet—so far, he’s been confident and self-assured. This Louis looks small and comfy, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and t-shirt loose on his shoulders. In the back of Harry’s mind, he hopes to see every side of Louis there is.

“You haven’t said anything too terrible about me, have you?” Louis teases, lazy grin curling at his lips and Harry isn’t sure who he’s addressing.

Phoebe speaks up though, getting to her feet before walking over to wrap her arms around his waist. “Of course not,” she promises and Louis reaches down to hoist her onto his hip.

“Thank you, love,” Louis murmurs, tapping her nose and she giggles delightedly. “Dinner will be ready soon,” he says to the rest of the room and his eyes linger on Harry for a second before he leaves with Phoebe.

Lottie hesitates before waving her hand and her eyes glow gold as she door shuts. “Alright. So weekly lessons then?” she asks Harry.

He nods, before shrugging. “I meant it when I said whatever you guys want.”

“How about a few hours on whatever day you have the least to do?” Felicite suggests and Daisy nods eagerly next to Harry.

“As long as I’m not out with your brother doing my actual job, that sounds good,” Harry agrees and then hesitates before continuing. “About that—your brother. He doesn’t know, does he?”

Lottie frowns before shaking her head. “No one knows. Our dad knew but he’s also—“ she cuts off, sighing heavily.

Harry never got the chance to known his dad but at least he’s always had his mum. These girls don’t have anything except for Louis, who doesn’t even know. He remembers hearing about Mark Tomlinson’s death—remembers seeing the girls around him about five years younger, huddled together and looking terrified. He also remembers the pale faced nineteen year old prince who realized were something to happen to the Queen, he would take the throne.

Five years later, Queen Johannah died giving birth to twin stillborns. Her to-be fiancé disappeared off to who knows where claiming he wanted nothing to do with the Tomlinsons. Harry tries not to think about it because the Tomlinsons have suffered far too much for being so young.

“Are you going to tell him?” Harry wonders and Daisy leans against him, shaking her head.

“Lottie says we need to keep our magic a secret,” she informs, reaching up to push her hair out of her eyes.

Harry frowns, shaking his own head. He meets Lottie’s eyes before saying, “That’s true but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell _anyone_. You can always tell the people you trust. My mum knows about my sister and I. My best friend Niall knows. As long as you know the person won’t tell anyone else, of course you can tell them.”

Felicite looks tired then. “We’ve been keeping this secret for seventeen years. Dad never told Mum, let alone Louis. He’ll never forgive us.”

Harry feels his heart drop pathetically to his stomach. “That isn’t true. Your brother loves you. He would forgive you.”

Lottie frowns before getting to her feet, pulling Felicite up with her. “It isn’t that simple, Harry,” she mutters before she looks at the door. “We need to go to dinner or else Louis will get suspicious.”

With a heavy sigh, Harry hauls himself to his own feet. He offers Daisy his hands and she uses them to pull herself up. “We’re not done talking about this,” Harry says and Felicite shrugs, before turning to twist the doorknob.

He watches as the girls leave one by one, Daisy giving him a short hug before disappearing out his door. The door slams shut after them and Harry takes a moment to sit down on his bed.

It isn’t sinking in. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever sink in. His life is too weird to even process. He does one last thing before he follows after the girls to dinner; he grabs his phone off the nightstand and shoots Niall a text; _I’m so fucked_.

 

**Day 4; Monday, May 5th, 2014.**

 

“Wait, but why are we—“ Harry starts and Liam shushes him.

“Don’t question it,” Liam mumbles, patting him on the shoulder.

They’re at a carnival. Harry isn’t sure why but around eleven in the morning, Zayn burst in cheerfully and told him to get ready and get downstairs as soon as possible.

After grabbing a banana, he was ushered into a car—alone this time—and now they’re here. At a carnival. “I’m a journalist. I’m _supposed_ to question it,” Harry reminds, holding up his journal pointedly.

Liam doesn’t even offer him a reply, turning to watch as Zayn and Louis throw rings while try to land them on bottles. There are guards all over the place and somewhere, the girls are off having fun.

Harry is pretty sure this is less of the ‘business transaction’ that Liam told him and more of a day out to indulge the royal family. He doesn’t mind though, because Louis is laughing brightly as he tosses ring after ring and Zayn sulks at his side.

“Your boyfriend is really bad at this,” Harry mutters, watching another one of Zayn’s rings fall short. Eventually it seems Zayn gives up because instead of throwing his rings, he tries to distract Louis.

“I know,” Liam replies and his voice is so affectionate that Harry wants to coo all over them. “It’s alright. I don’t need him to win me a prize.”

The prizes he’s talking about are huge stuffed animals on the shelves behind the person who’s running the stall. Zayn seems to hear them because he glowers. “I’m getting you that stupid bear, Liam. Louis can definitely afford to play this game all day.”

Louis himself shoves Zayn playfully. “That’s not fair. You have motivation to keep playing. For me, the novelty of kicking your arse is getting really old.”

Harry is busy laughing silently at the owner’s face at the prospect they might be at his stall all day that when he hears his name, he starts. “Why don’t you win Harry over there a prize? Give him something to put in his article and all that,” Zayn suggests with a smirk on his face.

That makes Harry blink in surprise before opening his mouth to refuse, “You don’t have to—“

“Challenge accepted,” Louis says, clapping Zayn on the back, before giving Harry a smile full of mirth.

Harry grabs onto Liam’s arm because he’s a little afraid he might fall over. “He really doesn’t have to do that,” he tells Liam who shakes his head.

“He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to,” Liam assures with a grin. “Plus, he loves his challenges. You’ll just get an oversized bear out of it.”

Harry eyes Liam suspiciously before sighing and looking back at the pair as the owner begrudgingly hands over another stack of rings.

Louis slides his rings along the length of his arm, while Zayn keeps his rings in his free palm. He realizes now that they’re both actually awful at this but Zayn is just the worse of the two.

At least Louis’ rings sometimes land on the bottle but Zayn’s are always incredibly far off. Still, the little amount that Louis manages to get around the bottle neck is nowhere near enough to actually win a prize.

They both seem to realize how poorly their effort is going because Louis asks for a set of rings _again_. Harry is worried the owner might actually kill them, even as he hands over more rings. It’s pretty hard to deny the Prince of Wales after all.

This goes on for the next ten minutes and Harry watches in vague amusement. Like this, it’s easy to forget that Louis isn’t like anyone else in the crowd.

He’s all tight jeans and loose tank tops, an easy smile and tan skin. He has tattoos—that’s something Harry never knew. It’s a scatter of ink along his right arm. Harry sees a stick figure on a skateboard amongst others. The tattoos remind him of his own left arm. It makes Louis seem more like a real, tangible person.

Right now, Louis is pouting as he comes down to his last ring. He tosses it and it just barely brushes the bottle mouth before falling pathetically to the ground.

“One more turn please?” Louis requests and this time, Harry can’t help his laugh at the owner’s face. That makes Louis looks over at him though and then his expression changes from sheepish to determined. “Please?” Louis repeats and the man huffs before handing both Louis and Zayn another handful of rings.

Then Harry watches in disbelief as Louis climbs onto the counter, a mischievous smile on his face. The owner is staring at Louis in blatant horror while Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes and Liam shakes his head fondly.

“Is he really—“ Harry starts before breaking off into abrupt laughter as Louis starts tossing his rings, each one landing on the bottle and circling around the neck. He has a satisfied smile on his face the entire time, even afterwards as he hops back down off the counter, brushing his knees off.

“I win,” he tells Zayn, who grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. “What do you want then, Harry?”

Harry has a hand over his mouth trying to contain his giggles—he swears he’s a grown man. It’s just that Louis makes him feel like he’s back in secondary school. “You really don’t have to get me anything,” Harry insists when he gets a handle on himself again.

“That’s too bad, because I already won,” Louis teases. “Just choose one.”

Harry peaks a glance at the winner shelves. “Um, maybe, the pink one?” Harry tries and Louis smirks before gesturing towards the large pink teddy bear on the top shelf. The owner slumps his shoulders in defeat before getting on a stool and grabbing the bear.

He slides it over the counter and Louis takes it before turning to grin at Harry widely. The sight is quite possibly one of the cutest things Harry has seen in his twenty two years of life.

“Here you go,” Louis says, holding it out for Harry who shoves his journal in his coat pocket before taking it in his own arms. He holds it tight to his chest and offers Louis a dimpled smile.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles and Louis just shrugs, still smiling with his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“It needs a name though,” Louis reminds, licking his lips briefly and Harry absently watches the motion before blinking and looking down at the bear.

“I’ll name it Holly,” He decides on a whim and Louis nods appreciatively.

“Nice name for a nice bear. I like a man that can name his teddy bears properly,” Louis comments and Harry barks a laugh out in surprise.

“I suppose that’s good,” Harry mutters. He turns to look for Liam but then he sees that both Zayn and Liam are walking away from them, heading towards the ferris wheel. “Did they just ditch us?”

Louis turns to glance at their backs before shrugging. “Their loss. Come on then Harold. Let’s go win more stuff!” He reaches out and grabs Harry’s arm, before tugging him towards the next booth.

Harry is helpless to follow but he does catch the owner of the stall letting out a silent sigh of relief and that makes him fall into hysterics as Louis drags him along.

It’s a target practice booth this time and hitting bull’s eye means a water gun as a reward. Harry figures he could make it if he uses his magic so he turns to one of the various guards around them. “Can you hold this for me?” Harry asks politely and the man nods gruffly, taking it from his arms.

He turns back to the game and then Louis. “I guess I should win you something in return then?”

Louis smiles before shrugging his shoulders. “If you want to, go ahead.”

That’s all the encouragement Harry needs and he turns to the owner of the stall which is petite girl with ginger hair this time. “Can I get some darts, please?”

She nods and hands over three darts all while glancing over Harry’s shoulder in disbelief. It seems no one told her the Royal family was visiting. Harry glances back at Louis himself and the older man is watching him with a small smile on his face. He turns back around and takes a deep breath. It’s been a few days since he really let go of the reigns of his magic and it feels weird to let loose now.

He lifts one of the darts and he feels a flash of heat run through his veins before he tosses the dart and watches it hit the bull’s eye with perfect precision.

“Well, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Louis mutters behind him and Harry smirks to himself before tossing the next dart—it slices the first in half. The girl running the stall is gaping at him and he hears Louis curse under his breath in surprise from behind him.

Harry takes the last dart and throws it, watching it slice the _second_ dart in half. He’s still smirking to himself as he brushes his hands off. “Do I get a prize then?” he wonders cheekily.

The girl stammers for a moment, blinking rapidly before nodding jerkily. “Um, two if you want. I’ve never seen someone do that and I’ve been working this stall for the past six years,” she answers in awe.

Harry’s smirk slides off his face, replaced by a flush. He shrugs and turns to Louis. “Take your pick,” he says, gesturing towards the wide array of water guns.

Louis is however staring at him with his jaw slack. Even the guards around them look vaguely impressed—including the one holding onto Harry’s bear.

Harry wants to cringe because he realizes he might’ve overdone it just a little. Instead he keeps the smile on his face steady. “Well?”

“Er,” Louis starts before faltering. Harry has literally left the Prince speechless—he isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry because of this.

“We can both take one and then spray Liam and Zayn?” Harry suggests hesitantly, suddenly feeling small under Louis’ gaze even though he towers over him by a few inches. He goes to scratch the back of his neck nervously but his scarf is in the way so instead, his arm drops idly to his side.

Louis blinks in response before shaking his head for a few seconds, almost as if clearing his thoughts. “That’s a fantastic idea,” he agrees before walking over to the counter, setting a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he looks over the options.

Where he’s touching Harry, it feels like he’s on fire. It’s a strange feeling—it’s like his magic. There’s a burning sensation but no actual heat behind it. Harry inhales sharply and tries to focus on the water guns instead.

“I like that one,” Louis murmurs, pointing to a red one before pointing to another blue one. “And I like that one for you.”

Harry gives the one that he’s pointing to a lookover before nodding at the girl behind the stall. As she moves to get them, Harry turns to Louis. “Choosing for me now, are you?” Harry wonders and Louis grins, dirty and quick before his fingers come up to roll up Harry’s sleeves.

“Well, you won for me, didn’t you?” Louis asks and Harry has trouble answering because _the Prince is touching him and he can feels the smaller man’s fingers brushing against his skin and everything just burnsburnsburns_.

He ends up nodding in reply and Louis smiles up at him before moving to roll up the other sleeve. Once he’s satisfied, he turns back to the stall and takes one of the guns.

After that, Harry has all of one second’s notice before there’s water spraying him in the chest and once he blinks away his shock, Louis is skipping away merrily, laughing to himself.

—

Harry sets down a stack of books in the middle of their circle and all the girls stare at them with wide eyes. It’s their first lesson and Harry is unsure of whether he’s nervous or excited.

“Alright, so this is beginner spells,” Harry picks up the first book and hands it to Phoebe who immediately starts to flip through it while Daisy glances over her shoulder. “And this is for healing magic.” He hands another book out, this time giving it to Felicite who holds the book with an expression akin to awe.

“This is so cool,” Phoebe mutters under her breath and then she starts to murmur one of the spells written in the book under her breath. Harry watches as the book starts lifting up into the air and rolls his eyes, before pushing it back down into Phoebe’s lap.

“Don’t start anything yet, I’m not done showing you the books,” Harry reprimands lightly before picking up another pair of books. “This is a bit of a more expert book and after you finish the one for beginners, you can look through this. I have a book on magical creatures as well, but the only one I know that still exists is a dragon.”

Lottie blinks at him in surprise before repeating, “ _Dragon_?”

Harry grins before passing her the book which she takes eagerly. “Yes, a dragon. I hear he takes the form of a human though, so finding him probably wouldn’t be all that easy.”

Lottie murmurs in assent, already flipping through the pages while Daisy turns to him. “This is so wicked, I can’t believe no one told us this before!”

That makes Harry laugh and he gestures for her to sit next to him as he picks up the last book. “This book is about magical items. For example, I have this,” he reaches underneath his scarf to show her a necklace of an airplane. “It’s meant for allowing a peaceful sleep but I’ve never had scary dreams like you. We’re different in that way.”

Daisy nods and Harry tucks his necklace back under his scarf. He hands her the book and she examines the cover before opening up to the first page.

They’re all so curious and it feels nice to help them learn more about themselves. If their awe is any indication, they’ve never really known _anything_.

Harry has known this stuff since he was a kid—Anne had the beginner spell book, left behind by his dad but it was only when he moved to London that he really learned how to use his magic properly.

It makes him a feel a little better that at least the girls are still so young because they have so much time to improve and accept who they are. Even Lottie is a year younger than he was when he moved to London with Niall.

He takes a deep breath before a smile blooms on his face. “Shall we start then?”

 

**Day 5; Tuesday, May 6th, 2014.**

The morning starts off with a meeting at seven. Harry is half dead on his feet as he trails after Louis and Zayn—both of whom are look particularly bright while he looks like he’s running on two hours of sleep.

Serves him right, considering he spent most of the night sending his body paragraphs to Leigh. He probably should’ve slept a little more. _Probably_.

He sighs to himself and rubs his right eye absently as they stop at a room with a closed door. They’re in Buckingham Palace again which Harry refuses to believe because it’s still too early in the morning and he hasn’t had his daily coffee intake yet.

Harry blearily takes notes and mostly just stares at Louis a lot because he’s nice to watch. He thinks he might’ve included that in part of his article actually. He also distinctly remembers typing something about fate and destiny. He thinks he might’ve been delirious while writing that part since it was probably half three in the morning but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

At one point, while someone else is speaking and Harry is still staring at Louis, the Prince catches his eye and smiles brightly at him. Harry smiles back crookedly and then starts doodling on his journal.

When they finish that meeting, Louis follows Harry back to his limo and then climbs in after him. Harry is too tired to ask questions about why Louis isn’t in his own car and instead Harry’s but instead of that, manages a, “Can we please stop for coffee?”

Louis laughs in response before nodding, nudging Harry’s knee with his own. “Yeah, of course we can. Why didn’t you ask earlier?”

Harry blinks one eye open to stare at him. “It’s eight in the morning. I can’t even think.”

That makes Louis laugh again and he shakes his head. “Get used to it, pal.”

In reply, Harry just groans and shuts his eye again. He only opens them both again when Louis passes him a coffee. He nearly kisses Louis in thanks and then he also nearly slaps himself. He refuses to be responsible for his thoughts this early and Louis is too much of a temptation to be around.

“Coffee is my only friend,” Harry mutters darkly to himself and he sees Louis smiling fondly at him. He chooses to ignore it in favor of actually drinking his coffee.

Half an hour later, when Harry actually feels alive, it registers that Louis is in the same car as him again but it clearly isn’t for professional reasons like the last time if the way that Louis is playing candy crush on his phone is any indication.

“I’m slightly offended,” Harry announces and Louis turns to look at him curiously. When he doesn’t say anything, Harry continues in a melodramatic tone. “My presence is being ignored in favor an iPhone app. This is what the world has come to.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Are you quite finished?”

In reply Harry elbows him and then stares blankly at his own arm before back over at Louis with wide eyes. “This isn’t treason, is it?”

“Hitting the Prince is treason, yes,” Louis agrees and his expression is so serious that for a moment Harry is actually worried but then he cracks a smile and Harry groans.

“What about hitting an arse?” Harry grumbles to himself, turning away and Louis lets out a loud laugh.

“I heard that, Harold,” Louis teases before elbowing Harry back.

It occurs to him then that he’s on a bantering level with the Prince of Wales. His life can’t possibly get any better than it is right now.

Of course, that’s why when they get back, he gets a reply back from Leigh about his article that threatens to ruin his life. Well, he’s exaggerating but all the same, the reply isn’t _good_ by any means.

                _Harry,_

_…. I’m not sure how to put this into words but your article sounds like it’s being written by a smitten sixteen year old. ‘Louis is a great person to sit and just admire what he’s like’. Do you even reread this stuff over when you type it up? Get it together, Styles. Pull out your professional side, honestly. And stop writing this stuff at three in the morning. I’m sure the Prince doesn’t require all your attention through the day. Hell, ask for another day off just to write if you need. Try to sound coherent and not like a lovesick idiot. No offense, of course. I’m sure the Prince is just as lovely as you’ve said and that you ‘got on right from the word hello’ but your readers aren’t going to care. You’re writing this for them to take him as king if you happened to forget. It’d be incredibly op-ed if the person writing the article was actually in love with the Prince. Also, it’s been like… five days. You literally can’t be this in love with the guy already. And maybe on the odd chance you are, it would be nice for you to include WHY rather than how you think you’re two sides of the same coin. What were you even talking about? Harry, come on. Get your shit together. Also, this is all over the place. Did Winston not teach you how to use the inverted pyramid? Lead, body, then fluff. NOT FLUFF THE ENTIRE TIME. Kill this entire piece. I want a draft every week until we get this down to a science, got it? Next draft by the end of this week, preferably. Tone down the soulmate bullshit and give me some actual substance. Talk to you soon._

_Leigh-Anne_

Harry is staring at the screen through the spaces between his fingers in horror. He doesn’t even know what to begin to say in reply.

“I’m so fucked. I shouldn’t even be here,” he mutters to himself and his magic flares up inside him in reply. He blinks in confusion and lowers his hand from his face to stare down at it instead. It looks just the same as always but something feels different.

He brings his fingers together in a fist, looking at his strained knuckles before relaxing his fingers and staring at his open palm. He frowns a little and looks at his other hand before bringing them together.

Harry suddenly feels his magic burst right out of him, taking away his breath. He looks down at his hands again and slowly opens them, only for a something to fly out. It’s a blue butterfly and Harry watches in awe as it flies away from him.

It’s only when it disappears out the open window that Harry realizes the color of the butterfly matched Louis’ eyes almost exactly.

 

**Day 6; Wednesday, May 7th, 2014.**

 

They’re having a tea party.

Harry is sitting next to Lottie who’s dressed up all fancy in a dress that comes down to her knees—the design is a pattern of blue butterflies and that makes Harry feel like something is itching at his veins.

“Cookie?” Lottie murmurs, passing the plate over and Harry graciously takes one with a smile before passing the plate to an elderly lady sitting next to him.

It’s an actual official tea party. Louis is sitting at the head of the table, talking to a well-dressed man and his wife. They might be important, they might not be. Harry should probably know but he’s too busy trying to make sure that Daisy who’s sitting across from him doesn’t make a mess by spilling tea on herself.

Felicite warned him that she does it often and while the guests find it endearing, those who wash their clothes really don’t. Since Harry has personally taken it upon himself to take care of these girls the best he can, he nudges her foot any time she tries to actually drink her tea. His long legs have come in use for the first time.

When he isn’t making sure that Daisy isn’t creating a mess, he’s watching Louis. He thinks Lottie must notice because he catches these small smirks on her face occasionally that makes him want to stick his tongue out in reply but at the same time, they’re at a public tea party and he’d much rather not embarrass himself.

It’s because he’s watching Louis that he catches the looks that the older man is giving him. Harry doesn’t want to say the looks are _hungry_ but he doesn’t know what other word to use to describe it. He thinks maybe the Prince is staring at the food on Harry’s plate but he has the exact same food on his own plate so that doesn’t make any sense.

He glances down at himself, trying to see if there’s anything wrong with his outfit. He actually wore a suit this time and got rid of his scarves in favor of a long black tie.

Harry sighs and Lottie snickers, before shoving a piece of cookie into his open mouth. He bats her hand away and she laughs louder as he tries to speak through the crumbs in his mouth.

He feels Louis’ eyes on him again and this time, they’re watching him and Lottie with interest—it could even be considered curiosity—eyes flickering between them.

Preoccupied with Louis staring at him, he misses that Daisy picks up her cup and only peels his eyes away from the Prince when there’s a loud shattering noise. The cup is in pieces on the table and Daisy is covered in warm tea.

She scrunches up her nose and Harry thinks she might start wailing so he quickly lifts his napkin off his lap and tosses it on his plate before walking around the table. He places his hand on her shoulder and murmurs a spell under his breath to cool the tea before gesturing for her to get up.

“I’ll take care of this,” he mouths to Louis who nods in confusion before assuring the guests everything is fine with a bright smile.

Harry offers Daisy his hand which she grabs, sliding off her seat and then the two of them end up changing into different outfits. Mostly because Daisy starts to get pouty when she realizes she’s the only changing so of course, he goes with the flow and changes into his nicest button up and some skinny jeans while she changes into a floral dress.

If anything, it gives him an excuse to wear one of his scarves again and that’s always a good incentive to do anything—and everything.

When they get back, the guests have moved to the living room where they’re all talking amongst each other. Harry lets Daisy go run off to Phoebe who’s speaking with a young woman with an amused expression.

Harry stands there awkwardly for a moment, unsure where to go because Liam and Zayn are busy talking to each other with their heads bowed in a corner and Lottie is nowhere to be seen.

Felicite has been gone the entire morning—something about papers for school. The girls are all getting home schooled now but since Felicite was still enrolled, there’s paperwork to be done.

In occurs to Harry that he doesn’t know anyone aside from the Tomlinsons and Liam and Zayn. He _could_ talk to the guests but that isn’t what he’s here for. He presses his lips together before taking another cursory glance around.

He nearly jumps when he feels fingers wrap around his elbow but it’s just Louis, who’s smiling up at him. “Alright?” he wonders and Harry nods.

“Yeah. I helped Daisy get a change of clothes,” Harry answers quietly, aware of the dozens of eyes now trained on them.

Louis doesn’t seem like he cares though, leaning in closer to whisper in Harry’s ear. “You changed too?”

Harry laughs nervously, before shrugging. Louis is still holding on to his elbow and it feels warm where he’s touching. “She wouldn’t change unless I did,” he offers.

It seems this is no surprise to Louis because he chuckles quietly. “That does seem like something Daisy would do,” he replies before his eyes sweep over Harry’s attire. “You looked nice before though.”

That makes blood rush to Harry’s face and he refrains from doing something stupid like passing out. “Erm, thanks. I like my scarves though,” Harry mutters, pointedly picking at the fabric of his scarf.

Bad choice on his part since Louis’ other hand comes up to tug on Harry’s scarf, pulling him even closer. Their faces are entirely too close now and Harry is honestly going to die.

“I like them too,” Louis murmurs before letting go of Harry completely and walking away to greet another one of the guests.

Harry stands there flustered for a few moments before he turns around and walks out of the room to prevent any further humiliation. He thinks that’s enough of him being unhinged for one day.

Of course, that’s exactly why fate makes it her mission to throw him ever further off kilter.

It’s later in the evening when Harry is going back to his room after a snack that he hears strange noises coming from one of the rooms in the hallway where his room is.

He furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head as if that’ll help him hear better. That’s when he remembers that Louis’ room is in the same hallway as his and he freezes in his tracks.

The noises haven’t stopped and Harry takes a careful step towards the room he knows is the Prince’s. From where he’s standing he can see that the door is open just a crack so surely Louis isn’t being brutally murdered or anything.

Or so he hopes.

He takes a deep breath before closing the distance between him and the door. The noises are louder now and they sound like groans—Harry isn’t sure what to make of that so he leans closer towards the door, until he can see through the crack.

At first, he doesn’t see anything other than the beige colored walls. Then he sees Louis and he has to throw a hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise.

Louis is on his bed naked with his hand wrapped around his cock.

Someone is actually trying to kill Harry.

He bites down on his finger hard in surprise and it seems that Louis doesn’t even notice that he’s standing in the doorway because he’s still moving his hand up and down, pausing only to swipe his thumb over the head of his cock.

Harry knows he should move. He knows he shouldn’t be watching this unfold before his eyes and that he should just walk away but his feet feel like they’re glued to the ground.

“F—fuck,” Louis groans into the silence and Harry bites down harder on his finger.

The only noise that fills the air then is Louis’ quiet pants and the sound of skin against skin. Harry breathes through his noise because he thinks his mouth has stopped working.

There’s something burning in the pit of his stomach and it reminds him of the burning in his veins but this—this he recognizes. It’s arousal and he can feel himself getting hard in his jeans.

Louis disrupts the silence again by thrusting his hips up off his bed, searching for friction that isn’t there and his free hand trails up to play with one of his nipples. “Fuck, _oh fuck_.”

His head is thrown back and he’s biting down on his bottom lip, eyes screwed shut and Harry can only watch as Louis’ nipples harden underneath his own fingers.

There’s a thin sheet of sweat covering his body and for a second, Harry wonders how long he’s been up here—how long he’s been doing _this_. The thought slips from his mind though as his eyes flicker back down to where the head of Louis’ cock is disappearing in his fist.

Whereas before he was moving in quick jerks, now he’s lazily pumping his cock and tweaking his other nipple. Harry makes an effort not to whimper as Louis’ eyes flick open, visibly hazy even from where he’s standing at the door.

Louis makes a low humming noise then, arching his back off his bed and _fuck_ , Harry wants to actually lick all of him—he’s soft and then he’s muscle and it’s a contradiction but somehow it works all too well for Louis.

“Shit,” Louis mumbles, toes curling and his hand starts to move quicker, swiping over the head again. His fingers are a lot stickier now as they run along his cock, tracing a vein on the underside before he switches back to quick pumps of his fist.

Harry hopes the bite marks on his finger don’t become permanent. He feels dizzy and his other hand grips the doorframe lest he fall over. His cock is so hard in his jeans that he’s amazed he hasn’t combusted into fiery gold specks of magic.

The next few seconds go by entirely too quick but at the same time, Harry experiences them as if time has slowed down—Louis spills come across his stomach, jerking himself through his orgasm before his hand drops to his side lazily.

If Louis were to look at his doorway, he might see a sliver of a red faced Harry Styles and that isn’t something Harry particularly wants.

He chances one last glance over, watching the way Louis’ chest rises slowly up and down and the way his thighs are spread wide. There’s come drying on his stomach and he’s all golden and tan and Harry curses the day he set foot in this Palace.

Harry quickly turns on his heel and nearly trips, crashing into the wall on accident. There’s a moment of drop dead silence where Harry thinks Louis is going to stick his head out the door and catch him but after a minute of just the sound of his own breathing, nothing happens.

Leaning against the wall, he lets out a sigh of relief and then decides not to push his luck and hurries down the hall to his own room.

He ends up jerking himself off and coming to a groan of Louis’ name. He should probably feel guilty or ashamed but the only thing he can think is ‘a _t least the door is locked’._

 

**Day 7; Thursday, May 8th, 2014.**

 

When Harry catches Louis’ eye at breakfast, he feels an irrational burst of panic in his chest. He’s afraid that maybe Louis knew exactly who was outside his door and that any minute, guards are going to come to arrest him and he’s going to go end up in jail, stuck eating prison food for the rest of his life.

It doesn’t work that way. Instead, Louis smiles at him brightly before saying, “I like your scarf,” and Harry is helpless but to smile back, even as he feels the blood rushing to his face.

“I like yours too,” is what comes out of his mouth though and then he nearly drops his head onto his plate full of eggs in shame. Louis is wearing a buttoned up shirt and dark jeans. Definitely not a scarf.

Louis laughs though, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Thank you,” he teases before his eyes lock on Harry’s scarf again. “How many of those do you think you have?”

The girls are all in their own little worlds, oblivious to the conversation Harry and Louis are having above their heads. Daisy and Phoebe are coloring in a picture of a fairy, arguing over the hair. Felicite is on her phone, a piece of uneaten toast between her fingers. Lottie is quiet, pushing her food around on her plate but she offered Harry a smile earlier, so he likes to think all the Tomlinsons have warmed up to him.

Especially with the way their manners have all but flown out the window, obvious from how  Daisy accidently drops a piece of bacon on him and then doesn’t even bother to do anything but shoot him an apologetic smile and return to her conversation.

He almost feels like he’s a part of the Royal household a bit now, seeing as this morning Cher offered him an extra banana and Lux clung to his leg.

It’s a nice feeling for only having been there a week.

“Scarves?” he asks Louis who nods, head tilted curiously. “Maybe ten. Not nearly enough,” he jokes half-heartedly and Lottie snorts under her breath but says nothing when Harry shoots her an inquiring glance.

“Ten?” Louis repeats, eyebrows raised.

“Ten,” Harry confirms, shrugging his shoulders before forking a piece of bacon on his plate and biting into it. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach—a feeling like if he makes the wrong move Louis will _definitely_ realize it was him outside his door last night, if he doesn’t know already.

It’s irrational but Louis isn’t saying anything now, just watching Harry with curious eyes and there’s a smirk pulling at his lips. The look is one Harry knows will stick in his mind for days—if not _weeks_ after this.

“Meet me in the grand hall in ten minutes, will you?” Louis requests simply while taking a sip of his water.

Harry nearly chokes on the food in his mouth but he somehow manages to swallow it down without making a complete fool of himself for the second time that day. “Me?”

Louis offers him a quizzical look. “Do you see anyone else here?”

That’s when Harry realizes the girls have somehow disappeared right under his nose. The only people in the room are Harry and Louis, other than the guards posted at the door. “Oh. I—okay.” He blushes and Louis’ lips twitch. “I can do that.”

“See that you do,” Louis instructs, standing up and offering Harry a real smirk this time and not just the hints of one before he leaves the room.

Harry watches him until he disappears and then blinks at the empty room. He’s not sure what’s going on but his shoulders loosen in relief because Louis didn’t say anything about the night before—unless that’s why he wants to see Harry in ten minutes. He really hopes that’s not why.

It isn’t.

Instead, Louis walks with him to a limousine, where he slides in beside Harry. When their knees touch, Harry feels a charge that seems almost electrical but he knows it’s because of his magic, which burns anytime Louis so much as gives him a second glance.

He wonders if Louis can feel it too. If Louis can feel the slow, languid searing that infects his blood. It’s not a bad feeling—in fact, Harry would even say it’s a good feeling. He feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be when he feels that burn.

“Where are we going, your Highness?” Harry wonders, lifting his pen to his mouth and chewing on the end while waiting for a reply.

Louis looks up from where he’s fastening his seatbelt, eyes dropping to Harry’s lips before flickering up to meet his gaze. “It wouldn’t be a good surprise if I told you, would it?”

Harry lifts his eyebrows in challenge. “What have I done to deserve a surprise?”

In reply, Louis chuckles. “I guess you’ll have to just find and see, won’t you, Princess?” he teases and Harry blushes, ducking his head. He regrets the day he agreed to let Daisy introduce him as Princess Harry.

“Aw, a blushing Princess!” Louis coos and then Harry starts in shock when he feels the Prince’s fingers sinking into one of his dimples.

“Louis, stop it, I’m a grown man!” Harry whines half-heartedly and Louis laughs, lunging across the seat and of _course_ , Harry becomes the target of Louis’ tickles.

“Get off _me_!” he shrieks, laughing and attempting to push Louis off to no avail. The shorter man is grinning delightedly, his fingers digging into the space beneath Harry’s ribs with enthusiasm.

“I will never accept defeat from a Princess,” Louis declares, doubling his effort and Harry quite literally falls off the seat from how hard he’s shaking with laughter, taking the Prince with him.

“Stop! Louis, please _stop_!” Harry wheezes, head thudding against the limousine floor.

Louis’ fingers are gentler now but his eyes are still gleaming as he smirks down at Harry. “Are you surrendering then?”

It’s hard for Harry to even speak between his involuntary giggles and the fact that Louis Tomlinson is in between his legs, _touching him_. “You—I— _Louis_!” Harry complains breathlessly. “Stop please?”

He does then, grinning down at Harry. “Since you asked so politely,” he teases, tapping Harry on the nose and it takes all of Harry’s effort not to smile dazedly up at him (he’s pretty sure he does anyways).

“I think I’m on top of my pen,” Harry says then and he’s not even sure why but it makes Louis laugh all the same as he moves from in between Harry’s legs, shuffling backwards.

He smiles kindly then, offering Harry a hand. “You should probably do something about that.”

Harry attempts to scowl but it doesn’t work so he settles for taking Louis’ hand with one of his own while his other hand slides underneath his back in search of the pen. “You’re terrible,” Harry mutters once his fingers close around the pen.

Louis shrugs, eyes bright and he’s still holding on to Harry’s hand. “I don’t think you have much of a problem with it,” he replies, lips twisting into an impish grin.

“What are you talking about?” Harry wonders but Louis doesn’t answer—he just winks before reaching behind himself and pushing the door open. Harry didn’t even realize the limousine stopped and he just watches bemusedly as Louis steps out.

He goes to get up himself and abruptly realizes what Louis meant. He’s hard in his jeans and he’s also absolutely mortified. “Oh my God,” he mutters under his breath, attempting to discreetly sort out himself out so that it isn’t visible through his jeans.

When Harry’s satisfied, he gets out, shutting the door behind him. Louis is giving him an amused look but he doesn’t say or do anything other than give Harry a brief onceover.

That’s when Harry notices where they are. It’s obviously a shopping center and he has no clue why they’re _here_ of all places. “Erm—why are we…?” Harry gestures towards the building.

“Come with me and find out,” Louis offers, shrugging before grinning to himself like he can’t help it. He’s so achingly beautiful that Harry’s chest hurts to just look at him.

“Alright,” Harry agrees, nodding. There’s less guards than usual—just one and he hangs behind them by a few feet compared to the usual four or five that surround Louis.

He thinks it’s Louis’ attempt to be discreet and blend in. It doesn’t work well though because a few minutes after they enter the mall, Harry notices a few people staring at them with their phones out while whispering amongst themselves. He really hopes these pictures don’t end up on online.

Even the photos taken by people at the carnival ended up on online, along with a few dozen thousand followers gained on his own twitter account. Harry tweets about ponchos and unidentified gels. He doesn’t need over fifty thousand people _reading_ those tweets. They’re for his own personal amusement and sometimes for Niall’s. Not for strange teenage girls that tweet him about _shipping_ —which; what?

Harry has an itchy feeling though that online is exactly where these photos are going to end up. He’s not going to complain about it though because if Louis doesn’t mind, why should he?

“I still don’t know why we’re here,” Harry reminds after a few moments and Louis makes a shushing motion, bring his finger to Harry’s lips.

“Don’t speak,” Louis orders and well; Harry shuts up pretty effectively after that.

Louis stops walking when they end up at some French boutique shop. Harry doesn’t know why they’re stopping here but he follows after Louis as he opens the door for the two of them.

“Bonjour,” Louis greets the woman behind the desk and Harry has half the mind to just lie on the ground and never get up. He’s heard Louis speak French before when he was watching press conferences for research but to hear him speaking French in real life is an entirely different thing.

“Bonjour!” The woman says delightedly and then she falters, eyes raking over the two of them. It takes a moment but then her mouth falls open and she blinks, startled. “Prince Louis?”

“Oui,” Louis replies, before offering her a smile. “C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer. J'aurais une petite faveur à vous demander?”

The woman nods furiously along to whatever Louis is saying. Harry is at a complete loss and just watches the exchange with curious eyes.

“Serait-il possible que vos clients quittent les lieux, s'il vous plaît? J'aimerais magasiner seul avec mon ami,” Louis says, gesturing towards Harry.

Harry stares blankly back in response because he has absolutely no idea what any of the words coming out of Louis’ mouth mean.

The woman turns to give Harry a look and her eyes widen further. “Est-ce alors votre amoureux? Il me fera plaisir de libérer les lieux pour votre quiétude. Donnez-moi cinq minutes!” She mumbles, eyes darting between them quickly before rushing off towards the other side of the store.

“Il n'est pas mon amoureux!” Louis calls after her and then turns to Harry. “She’ll be back soon.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, lips twisting in confusion. “What did you ask her to do?”

The shorter man shrugs in reply, lips twisting into a smile. “I requested for her to have the other customers leave,” He informs.

That makes Harry raise his eyebrows. “What? Why?”

Louis shrugs again. “Distractions, of course. Oh, look, they’re leaving!” He points towards a cluster of people making their way through the exit, most looking confused or annoyed.

Harry feels just a little bad but then the woman comes back, grinning. “Tout le monde est parti. Vous pouvez maintenant magasiner, et si vous avez des questions, n'hésitez pas de les poser. Il me fera plaisir de vous répondre!”

“Merci,” Louis says to her and then Harry feels a hand pressed against the small of his back. “Come on then, we’ve got the shop to ourselves.”

Harry rolls his eyes before nodding his head at the woman himself and repeating, “Merci,” because it’s probably one of the three words he actually knows in French.

She offers him a smile before going back behind the desk and then Louis is guiding him away to somewhere deeper in the shop.

He still doesn’t even know why they’re in the boutique in the first place but it takes him all of ten seconds to realize once Louis stops at a section full of scarves.

“Louis, are you serious? Tell me you aren’t serious,” Harry mutters almost to himself, unable to help it as he reaches out to touch one of the silk scarves on the shelves.

“I like your scarves,” is Louis’ cryptic reply before he moves towards the next few shelves, pulling out a blue silk scarf with red skulls littered across. “Do you like this one?”

Harry falters from where he’s observing a green scarf with dark glasses decorating it. The price tag is the first thing he sees. “That’s almost two hundred pounds, what are you even—“ he cuts off abruptly, eyes widening. “Are you—are you going to _buy_ me these?” he asks in disbelief.

Louis gives him a bemused look. “No, I brought you all the way over here so we could just look at them,” he replies slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t—you don’t need to buy me anything! I was kidding when I said I don’t have enough scarves. I have more than enough. You don’t need to spend your money on me,” Harry protests mildly and Louis scoffs, reaching over to flick him.

“I’m the Prince, Harry. You can’t tell me what to do,” he reminds, before tugging on the blue scarf again and holding it between his fingers. “I think this will look nice on you.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest further but then he’s caught off by Louis shoving the scarf in his mouth. He widens his eyes in disbelief and Louis _giggles_.

“Oops,” he says, smirking.

“ _Louis_!” Harry all but groans even as it’s unintelligible through the scarf in his mouth.

“Looks like I’ll have to buy it now!” Louis announces cheerfully in reply, pulling the scarf out and then proceeding to wrap it around Harry’s head so they push his curls back.

Harry is all but helpless to watch.

“You are a _menace_ ,” Harry hisses as Louis pays for five different scarves around twenty minutes later.

“Ah, wrong. I am _Prince_ Menace. Please, learn your facts,” Louis replies and the only thing Harry can do is scowl at him.

Louis is _so_ lucky he’s cute.

 

**Day 8; Friday, May 9th, 2014.**

 

Harry does one last check, making sure all his punctuation is on point and that he didn’t say anything that would give away exactly how besotted he is with Louis Tomlinson.

It all clears out and he almost sighs to himself in relief, before opening up safari and heading towards his email. It takes him a few minutes to send out the email because he has to wait for the document to load before pressing send.

He really, really hopes that Leigh doesn’t get upset with him this time. He’ll probably just spend his day off weeping to himself if that’s the case.

Once he’s done with that, he gives himself a pat on the back before opening up skype. Then he proceeds to call Niall, who answers in his boxers with a bowl of cereal in his lap.

“Nice scarf,” is the first thing Niall says, before shoving a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

Harry pulls a face at his best friend’s atrocious manners before looking down at the scarf. It’s one of the ones Louis bought him and he doesn’t know if he should tell Niall but when _hasn’t_ he told Niall everything?

“Thanks, Louis got it for me,” he eventually responds and he should’ve expected Niall’s reaction which consists of the Irish boy spitting his cereal back into the bowl and dropping his spoon.

“Louis? As in Prince Louis?” Niall demands, putting his bowl aside and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

Harry smiles sheepishly. “The one and only.”

Niall gapes openmouthed in return, before he slaps himself in the face.

Harry flinches on his own end and he swears Niall mutters, “I _hope_ you felt that,” but then his best friend starts actually talking. “It’s been eight days, Harry! How do you have the Prince buying you scarves? That’s, like… super gay! That’s like one month anniversary gay!”

That makes him glower. “You can’t _define_ things as gay, Niall. Also, it’s just a scarf.” Harry falters before muttering, “Or five.”

This time, Niall actually gasps. “Five? _Five_? Are you and the Prince fucking? Why wasn’t I notified of this earlier? Also, I repeat, it’s been a _week_! Harry, what the fuck, mate?”

Harry flushes before shrugging. “Calm down, we’re not fucking. It’s just a few scarves. No big deal.”

“A few scarves, no big deal,” Niall repeats in an overly horrible imitation of Harry.  “If you’re not fucking by the end of this month, I’ll throw out all of my chocolate. I swear on my grandpap’s grave.”

“We won’t be. I’m _working_ here, Niall. I can’t—okay, listen. There—hold on, I need to lock the door,” Harry says, before turning to the door. His eyes flash gold and he hears the lock before he turns back to the screen where Niall is watching him expectantly. “I walked in on him wanking.”

There’s a pause where that registers and then Niall stares at him with his jaw slack. “You walked in on—and you’re _not_ fucking?”

“Well, we’re using the term ‘walking in on’ very loosely. I may have been just standing in the doorway watching. Possibly,” Harry offers, worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Niall splutters for a few moments before he starts laughing with a crazed look in his eye. “You—you absolute _pervert_ , I taught you so well! I would ask for more details but I really don’t want to know about the Prince’s dick.”

“It’s a really pretty dick,” Harry murmurs absently before shaking his head. “I don’t think he knows I was there though. I shouldn’t have been there but—Niall, I don’t even know what’s happening to me. I always feel like there’s something setting me on fire and it’s so _weird_. I’m afraid I’m going to lose control of my magic and I just—“

Then Harry stops altogether, remembering something. Niall doesn’t say anything, instead raising an eyebrow while he waits for Harry to continue.

Harry laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair. “Right. About the magic. Um. Louis’ sisters might all have magic? And I might be teaching them how to use it?”

This time there’s dead silence as Niall stares at him with wide eyes. The Irishman is also the one to break the silence with a, “Are you pulling my leg, you tosser?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m a hundred percent serious. They’ve all got magic. Powerful magic too.”

“You are so fucked,” Niall states bluntly, still looking like he doesn’t completely believe Harry. “So incredibly fucked that I can’t even comprehend this. I’m so glad I took law now because you’re definitely going to need me in the foreseeable future.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Harry replies dryly, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

Niall shrugs before shaking his head. “Maybe you should change your name and move to Jamaica or something. I hear it’s really nice this time of year,” he suggests.

Harry pouts in return. “Niall, you’re not helping. What kind of best mate are you?”

“The kind that will be hauling your arse out of a jail cell, probably,” Niall mutters, raising a hand to his forehead. “Let’s go back to the Louis situation. That makes my head hurt less.”

“How is that _any_ better? I can’t do anything about the Louis situation if I want him to actually become king. There’s no way this will work out. It’s practically impossible,” Harry groans and accidently knocks his head into the bedframe.

Niall snickers at him before saying, “You’ll figure it out. Didn’t that Simon bloke say you two were fated to be or something?”

“Don’t even bring _up_ Simon,” Harry replies bitterly. “He didn’t warn me about the girls. Can you believe the nerve of that man?”

“I’m sure it all fits into your destiny or whatever,” Niall assures. “Just go snog the life out of Louis. It’ll make you feel better.”

“ _Niall_.”

“I’m just saying!”

 

**Day 9; Saturday, May 10th, 2014.**

 

“That’s a nice color on me, actually,” Harry muses, observing his nails.

It’s mid-afternoon in Kensington Palace and Harry is currently getting his nails painted pink by Phoebe. After attending a banquet with Louis and Liam earlier in the day, he thinks he deserves a girl’s day in.

“Pink is a nice color on everyone,” Phoebe states before slapping Harry’s wrist when he tries to take a closer look. “Stay still.”

Harry pouts at her to no avail as she goes over his nails with a second layer of clear nail polish. Why do nails even need second layers?

“Daisy, can you hold Harry’s hand still for me?” Phoebe requests snappishly and Harry offers her a sheepish smile as Daisy glances over from where she’s painting her own nails.

“Sure, just give me a second,” she answers, blowing on her nails before getting up and skipping over to them. She takes Harry’s hand in her own and then squints at the tattoo on his left wrist. “I can’t change?” she quotes, tracing the letters with her fingers.

Harry nods, smiling down at his wrist. “Yeah, I can’t change. My magic doesn’t define me, you know? It’s a part of who I am and it’s something that I can’t change. It’s something I don’t want to change. It makes me who I am.”

Daisy stares at it for a beat longer before looking up and meeting Harry’s eyes. “That’s nice. I like it,” she compliments. “It reminds me of Louis’ tattoo.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, before asking, “Which one?”

Phoebe makes an irritated noise and Harry makes an effort to hold his hand straight while keeping his focus on Daisy.

“The quotes on his right wrist! They don’t say anything though. It’s just empty quotation marks. He says it’s for everything he can’t say but I don’t know what that means.” Daisy shrugs before her eyes light up. “Hey! If you and Louis held hands, your tattoos would line up.”

Harry chuckles nervously, before tugging Daisy into his lap with his free hand. “I don’t think me and your brother will be holding hands any time soon, but that’s a lovely thought. His quotation marks to match my quote.”

Daisy grins brightly at him and Phoebe lets out a sigh of relief as she lets go of his hands. “Finished,” she announces, before leaning down to blow on his fingernails.

Harry giggles and that makes Daisy giggle which in return makes Phoebe giggle. It’s somehow evolves into a circle of giggles and that’s how Louis finds them.

He takes one look at them before saying, “I don’t even want to know,” loudly.

That makes all three of them laugh harder and Louis’ face lights up with a smile before he walks over to them. This time they’re in Daisy and Phoebe’s actual room, opposed to their secret hideout.

“Did you paint Harry’s nails?” Louis asks Phoebe as he ruffles her hair.

She nods eagerly, grinning up at him. “They’re pink!”

Louis laughs, scooping her up. “I can see that,” he comments, burying his face into her hair which makes her giggle and writhe in his arms.

Daisy is smiling fondly at the pair of them and Harry probably has a similar smile on his own face. The Tomlinson family is unfairly cute.

“Now that we’ve established that Harry’s nails are pink,” Louis starts, moving his head so he can meet Harry’s eyes. “I was wondering if I could perhaps borrow Harry for a while?”

Daisy raises a singular eyebrow. “I called dibs, remember? _You_ said dibs are sacred, Louis!” she reminds, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

Louis shrugs, putting Phoebe down. “You don’t even know what sacred means, Daisy,” he teases before promising, “And I’m just borrowing him. I’ll return him back to you in perfect condition.”

Harry watches as Daisy sighs and crawls out of his lap. “Not a hair out of place,” she warns and Louis nods seriously before offering Harry his hand which he takes gratefully.

“Deal,” Louis agrees, holding a pinky out to here which she loops with her own pinky. They shake on it and then Harry follows the Prince out of the room.

“What’s up?” Harry asks when they’re in the hallway.

Louis turns to give him a hopeful smile. “I have a small request,” he admits.

In return Harry nearly drops to his knees and offers to suck his dick right there and then just in case that’s the request, but in reality he just nods amiably and wonders, “What is it?”

“Will you help me with poetry?” Louis pleads.

Harry almost trips over his own feet in surprise. That’s definitely not what he expected Louis to say. In fact, that’s the _last_ thing he ever thought would come out of Louis’ mouth. Harry was rather hoping it could be his cock instead. Maybe even his fingers.

Another thing is that Harry really needs to keep his thoughts PG rated when he’s actually around Louis or else he’ll end up embarrassing himself horribly.

“Um, sure,” Harry says after a moment. “I’d love to help you with poetry.”

“Really?” Louis asks and he turns to Harry with shining eyes. What the _hell_ even—who has shining eyes? Is Louis actually a prince out of a Disney film?

“Of course!” he replies and Louis breaks into a grin.

“Let’s go to the library then,” Louis suggests and Harry raises his eyebrows.

“You want help right _now_?” He swallows hard as Louis nods. “Oh. Then—okay, yeah, lead the way to the library then.”

—

A few hours later, a few shit poems later and a few cups of tea later, Zayn walks in.

He freezes at the sight of the two of them, standing in front one of the bookshelves. Harry is searching for one of his own favorite poetry books and Louis had decided he didn’t want to be alone, so he followed right after him.

Zayn in the face of all this looks very curious. “Louis, Harry,” he greets slowly.

“Zayn,” they both say at the same time and then give each other a bemused glances.

“Is everything alright?” Zayn wonders, tucking his clipboard underneath his arm as he shifts to the side, eyes flickering between them.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Louis answers, eyes still locked on Harry. “We’re…” he falters. “Harry, tell Zayn what we’re doing.”

Harry offers Louis an alarmed look before smiling over at Zayn uncertainly. He isn’t sure what Louis expects him to say. “We’re…” Harry repeats and then falters before blurting out the truth, “I’m teaching him some poetry.”

“Poetry?” Zayn repeats, disbelief coloring his voice, eyebrows raised. Harry swallows hard in response and nods, nudging Louis pointedly.

Louis laughs uncertainly. “I—I love poetry,” he offers.

Harry chuckles nervously after that, gesturing towards Louis. “I was as surprised as you are. He can’t get enough of it!”

Zayn looks confused but then he nods. “I’ll leave you to your poetry then?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns and leaves the way he came, all while throwing them suspicious looks over his shoulder. When the library door slams shut, Harry exhales in relief.

As soon as it slams shut, Louis turns to him accusingly, even as his eyes are still shining bright. “Poetry? That’s the best that you could come up with?”

“What did you want me to say?” Harry groans, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I don’t know, something that didn’t make me sound like a love-struck girl?” Louis suggests, poking Harry in the arm with a pointed expression.

“Who’s to say you’re not?” Harry mumbles and Louis makes an indignant noise.

“I’ll have you know—“ Louis starts but then immediately cuts off when the library door opens again, followed by a series of loud footsteps.

Liam walks in this time, eyes wide with anticipation as he glances between the two of them with a smug grin. “Is Louis really learning poetry?”

“Liam, get _out_ ,” Louis orders immediately, voice lowering to a hiss as he points towards the door, all while glowering and Liam chuckles before doing as he’s told.

“Amazing,” Harry mutters to himself. “Truly amazing.”

For that, Louis swats him on the arm. Then they continue to learn poetry. All in a day’s work for Harry, really.

_how can people say that the night sky is bright / when they’ve seen his eyes / they’re shooting stars and I don’t how to make a wish / my lips won’t work, I can’t even move / he has captivated me / am I a prisoner to the stars / or am I prisoner to him?_

 

**Week 3**

**Day 10; Sunday, May 11th, 2014.**

He gets email back from Leigh on his day off. He’s prepared for the worst, hesitating to open the email for a full ten minutes.

Felicite is not impressed.

She’s sitting in the living room, sprawled out on the couch next to him as she flips through the channels on the television.

“Just open the bloody email,” she finally says, reaching out to kick him in the thigh. All the Tomlinsons seem to be unaware of what personal space is. It’s alright though because it’s not like Harry really minds. Especially not with a _certain_ Tomlinson who’s currently who knows where.

“I don’t want to,” Harry groans, pushing his laptop away from him.

Felicite finally gives up on the television, tossing the remote towards one of the other couches before turning to him with a bored expression. “If you’re not going to do it, I will,” she threatens bluntly.

Harry shakes his head furiously at that, eyes wide. God _forbid_ any member of the Royal family becomes aware of the fact he talks about Louis like a smitten teenager.

“Then do it yourself,” Felicite demands, picking up a pillow from the couch and tossing it towards his head. There’s no one else in the room so Harry just blinks at it with gold eyes and watches it stop midair, only to fall in Felicite’s lap.

In reply, Felicite huffs before making a grab for his laptop. He automatically pulls it back into his lap, wrapping his arms around it. “Fine, _fine_ , I’ll do it.”

Felicite leans back, a smug grin on her lips. “Good. I was about to use my Princess status to force you into doing it but it looks like that won’t be necessary.”

“Rude,” Harry mumbles but then takes a deep breath and clicks on the email.

                _Harry,_

_FINALLY. Thank you. A million times thank you. Your grafs were spot on! And there was no fluff about Louis’ eyes this time. I feel like a proud mother. I think some of the middle needs to be cut out and left on the side as pork, you know? But other than that, this was ace and I can actually say I know why Mr. Cowell hired you now. For your next draft, can you include a log, please? Let’s go by a timeline for the first month and then when you have a finalized draft (which you should around the end of month one) we’ll edit it the second month. Does that sound good? Also, determine your layout and send me that in the next draft as well. Other than all that, excellent work Harry! Can’t wait to see what else you have to say (also, are you and the Prince a thing? Perrie and Jesy are curious now. Jade is too but she won’t admit it. Get back to me on that)!_

_Leigh-Anne_

“Are you and the Prince a thing?” Felicite reads aloud and Harry starts, nearly dropping his laptop.

“Don’t _do_ that to me,” Harry complains, holding a hand to his chest. “And I think you better than anyone else knows that we definitely are not.”

Felicite tilts her head, considering. “I don’t know. I mean, you could be. He looks at you the way Prince Charming looks at Snow White.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Are you calling me Snow White?”

“Well Louis is already a Prince—“ Felicite starts before breaking off into laughter when she sees the expression on his face. She shoves her shoulder against his before saying, “Relax.”

Harry makes a pathetic noise in return. “Your brother is too pretty and I’m very upset about this,” he informs her.

Felicite rolls her eyes just as Lottie walks into the room. She gives them a curious look before plopping down next to Harry, gesturing to him. “Is he joining us?”

“I don’t know,” Felicite replies, ignoring Harry’s confused face. “If he wants to.”

Lottie turns to Harry then, resting her arm on his shoulder. “Are you busy tonight? I know it’s your day off, so,” she shrugs.

Harry furrows his eyebrows before shaking his head. “I don’t have any plans currently, no,” he admits, pushing down the top of his laptop and setting it on the table in front of them.

All three of them are in their pajamas—well, considering Harry sleeps in his pants only, he’s wearing some random band shirt that’s five years old and a pair of sweatpants. His legs feel oddly free compared to his usual jeans.

“Well, tonight’s movie night. All of us just sit around and watch whatever movie the random generator picks. Well anything that the twins can watch, at least. It’s usually Disney movies,” Lottie informs.

“Snow White,” Felicite mutters under her breath before humming loudly.

Harry squints at her before turning back to Lottie. “I’d love to, yeah. That sounds really nice.”

Lottie grins at him before nodding. “That’s great. Zayn and Liam usually join us too. I mean we don’t really talk during the movie though. You know how when you’re in a dark and quiet room, your magic tend to act up? That happens with us and so we just kind of stick together. Your magic does that too, right?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about,” Harry agrees, chuckling. “It’s because there’s so much energy in the air that isn’t being used and it draws to you.”

Felicite scrunches her nose, frowning. “It really sucks. I’ve shattered a light bulb or two from when Louis randomly starts to talk.”

Then the realization hits and Harry blankly states, “Louis is going to be here.”

Felicite raises an eyebrow. “Well obviously.”

“I—I don’t know if I should stay then. I might end up actually shattering the television instead of a light bulb,” Harry admits, tugging on his scarf sheepishly.

Lottie rolls her eyes, reaching out to pinch him. “Don’t be such a girl about it. I think you’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t touch you or anything, right? I’ve noticed your magic kind of reacts to that,” she says, grinning then.

Harry takes back any nice thing that he has ever said about the Tomlinsons. They are all very cruel, cruel people who enjoy Harry’s pain far too much.

“You’re both horrible,” he mutters, sinking in on himself and they both laugh before he’s wrapped in a hug from either side.

“We know,” Felicite gloats and Lottie nods, resting a cheek against his shoulder.

After about half an hour of the two of them relentlessly teasing him and then offering him cuddles, the twins walk in. It takes them all of two seconds before they decide they want to join the cuddle pile.

Ten minutes after that, they both wander off to a different couch and Liam and Zayn enter, discussing something about superheroes that Harry doesn’t even want to hear.

It seems Felicite and Lottie are on the same page as him because they cringe and busy themselves with a few of the magazines on the table in front of them instead.

Harry decides then that he should get up so he does. He walks over to the loveseat that shouldn’t even be considered a loveseat since it probably can’t fit two people.

That’s when Harry realizes all the seats are taken up in the living room, since Felicite and Lottie are now intertwining their legs where Harry used to sit.

He swallows hard and looks over at Daisy and Phoebe who are doing the exact same thing as their sisters. Liam and Zayn’s couch just barely fits the two of them, so there’s no chance there either.

Louis chooses that moment to walk in then, dressed in his own pair of joggers and a loose sweatshirt. It takes him a few moments to come to the same realization as Harry.

Harry meets his eyes and they look considering. When Louis starts to walk towards him, he knows he’s fucked and so is the telly.

“Can I sit?” Louis asks politely and Harry isn’t about to _refuse_ him so he nods, scooting over the best he can so that the Prince can take a seat.

He nearly swallows his tongue when Louis finally does sit because he’s almost half in Harry’s lap. He shoots Lottie and Felicite a panicked look but they’re too busy laughing at something else to provide him any aid whatsoever.

“Alright then,” he hears Louis mutter to himself. “What movie are we watching?” he calls to the rest of them.

It seems none of them were even aware that Louis entered the room because they all turn to him with confused expressions on their faces.

As soon as they catch Louis and Harry’s seating arrangement though, they all burst into snickers. The twins look confused as they giggle along but they do it anyways.

Louis glowers at them and Harry wants to hide his face while maybe burying himself six feet under the ground. It seems like a good idea.

“What movie are we watching?” Louis repeats, voice much drier and Zayn is laughing so hard that his shoulders are shaking as he buries his face in Liam’s neck.

“Frozen!” Daisy answers amiably, having stopped laughing in favor of playing with her doll.

Harry nearly smothers himself as he realizes they’re going to be watching a movie about a family where everyone hides the fact that one of the sisters has magic from the other sister and then the parents die. Harry is actually considering suffocating himself to save him the discomfort of having to watch this entire movie of all the movies they could be watching with Louis by his side.

“Amazing,” Harry cheers halfheartedly, before grabbing a pillow on his left side and moving it into his lap so there’s more room for him to scoot further away from Louis. The Prince seems a bit confused by that but he doesn’t say anything, even when Harry can feel his eyes on the side of his face.

In a matter of minutes, the entire room is dark except for the huge television which flickers with the opening credits of the movie.

It’s two scenes in to the movie that Harry starts to feel his magic come alive inside of him. He fidgets uncertainly, trying to keep his eyes focused on the screen.

He must move too much because there’s suddenly a hand on his knee, holding him in place. Harry turns to Louis who’s giving him a concerned look.

Harry tries to smile back in assurance but his magic is _really_ buzzing under his skin now, shooting up from his leg where Louis is touching him.

It must be a reasonable enough smile though because Louis smiles back before turning back to the movie. Then the song about building a snowman comes on and Harry starts in surprise when the twins start to sing along loudly.

Louis laughs in his ear, squeezing Harry’s knee before moving further up and resting his hand on Harry’s thigh. Harry clenches his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before using sheer will power to not to react to the hand on his thigh. It’s no big deal, even when Louis’ thumb presses into the inside of his thigh time to time.

Harry hasn’t actually seen Frozen yet—he just knows the main plot and he starts to feel distinctly bad for Elsa. He glances over at Lottie and Felicite then and even through the dark, with the faint light from the television, he can make out that they’re holding each other’s hands rather tightly.

He feels a flash of sympathy and that’s when Hans and Princess Anna start singing to each other. Harry definitely doesn’t expect for Louis to start singing along but _does_ , his voice quiet.

Surprisingly, Louis’ voice is good. Great even. It’s a soft croon and Harry is afraid that he might actually lose control of his magic at this rate. He holds onto the pillow in his lap tightly because he feels his hands shaking.

“You and I were just meant to _be_ ,” Louis sings along then and it feels like he’s singing directly into Harry’s ear. Harry swallows uncertainly, chancing a glance at the Prince.

Of course, Louis is smirking, still mouthing along to the words.

From that point on, it seems that it’s Louis’ personal mission to tease Harry relentlessly throughout the duration of the movie. Harry barely catches what’s actually happening in the movie—distracted by the gold in his veins and the warm fingers pressing into his skin through his sweatpants.

He thinks he’s going to make it through the movie without an incident but then Hans says _if only there were someone out there who loved you_ and Harry gasps, distraught. His laptop knocks to the ground from where it was still on the table in front of Felicite and Lottie.

Louis is the one that starts in surprise, his fingers digging into Harry’s thigh. “What was that?”

Felicite is quick to answer, mumbling something along the lines of, “My arm bumped into it, sorry,” and Louis’ fingers instantly relax.

Harry feels seconds from having a panic attack so he shuts his eyes and forces himself to breathe, taking in uneven breaths. He knows if he actually has a panic attack, his magic will _really_ lose control but he feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs.

Seconds later though, Louis’ fingers are slipping into his own, anchoring him. “Are you okay?” Louis murmurs and when Harry blinks his eyes open to look at him, his eyebrows are furrowed in worry.

After a few more deep breaths, he’s able to nod his head. “I’m just going to—I need to use the restroom,” he mumbles, abruptly getting up from the couch. Louis’ hand slips out of his and he feels a concerned gaze on his back as he slips out of the room.

It’s only when he’s sitting on the bathroom floor with the door locked that he starts to realize how fucked he really is.

 

**Day 11; Monday, May 12th, 2014.**

 

The next day is quiet. Eerily quiet even.

Harry trails after Louis as he goes from meeting to meeting but each time he goes to step through the door into the room, he’s told he has to wait outside while Louis casts him an apologetic look.

He doesn’t know why he’s not allowed in the meetings since he’s supposed to spend every waking moment watching Louis do his job but it seems that’s not the memo today.

Instead, he sits outside with Zayn and they do crossword puzzles from that morning’s _Direction_. It’s weird seeing his name in the credits on the back.

“I think that’s _Madison_ across,” Zayn offers, pointing his pen towards the seven lettered empty space. It’s an _American Horror Story_ edition this time and Harry wonders what kind of people Simon lets work at Direction. Clearly strange ones—especially taking himself into consideration.

Harry hums in agreement. “Seems about right.”

That’s as deep as his conversation gets with anyone the entire day.

 

**Day 12; Tuesday, May 13th, 2014.**

 

Harry wakes up at noon and wonders why no one bothered to wake him up. He rolls out of his bed and then, still in only his pants, he walks out of the room.

He should probably watch where he’s going because he bumps into someone the second that he steps out, nearly toppling over but the person grabs his forearms in time.

“Harry,” Louis greets and his blue eyes are focused on Harry’s swallow tattoos.

“Your Highness,” Harry says back sheepishly, crossing his arms over his chest in attempt to cover himself. He’s not ashamed of his body—in fact he prefers walking around naked to anything else but he’s also in front of the Prince and he’s wearing just his pants. He thinks he should have a little shame.

“You—nice tattoos,” Louis tells him and when Harry feels fingers lightly brushing against the swallows, he shivers in surprise.

Louis automatically retracts his hand, looking down at it in confusion. “I didn’t mean to—“ he starts but Harry cuts him off, holding a hand out.

“It’s fine,” Harry assures, even as he feels his cheeks coloring. “Thank you though.”

The Prince nods before he gestures behind him. “Have you had anything to eat?”

Harry shakes his head, flushing. “I just woke up, actually. Did I miss breakfast?” he pauses then and flushes further. “Of course I missed breakfast, it’s noon. What am I even saying? I—erm.” His shoulders deflate and he chances a look at Louis’ face.

Louis looks amused, eyes bright as he stares at Harry. “I’m sure Cher wouldn’t mind making you something.”

“No, no—it’s alright. I’ll just have some fruit or something. It’s cool,” Harry responds and immediately he wishes a black hole would open up and swallow him.

Louis gives him a considering look before shrugging. “If you’re sure,” he murmurs and then he stands aside, running a hand through his hair.

The Prince looks sleep-rumpled—his hair is messy and his face is soft with tiredness. Harry wonders if Louis just woke up as well. Wonders if he should offer for Louis to join him.

“Do you—I can get you something if you want?” Harry offers then and Louis smiles at him. It’s a nice smile—like the sun peeking out of the clouds and Harry is so incredibly besotted by that smile that he nearly swoons.

“That’s alright. Thank you though,” Louis replies, blinking up at him through his eyelashes. Harry smiles back at him, unable to himself.

Louis has this magnetic presence and all Harry wants is to be closer and closer and closer. He wants to breathe Louis in, wants to memorize him and imprint Louis’ fingertips onto his skin.

It’s possible that it’s because of his magic but Harry knows that’s not the only reason why. Harry is hopelessly infatuated with Louis—like a teenager with a silly crush. This always happens to him but it’s never been such a strong pull. He feels like there’s a string tied from him to Louis, a rope that’s keeping Harry anchored to him.

What he wrote in his article wasn’t a lie. He and Louis just fit together as people and Harry knows he sounds dumb but his belief in fate grows stronger by the day. There has to be a reason that he and Louis were at the same concert all those years and a reason that it was Harry, the most inexperienced journalist in the world to be chosen for all of this.

There has to be a reason that when Harry was thirteen and he saw a boy with golden skin and cerulean eyes on his television, he just _knew_ there was something about him. It can’t be explained off as coincidences because it all feels like too much, too soon, too strong to not correlate.

He realizes he’s been staring down at Louis for too long when the Prince clears his throat but he’s back to looking amused, arms crossed over his chest.

Harry awkwardly fumbles, laughing nervously before he turns to go, nearly tripping on the way there but managing to catch himself on the banister. He hears Louis laugh behind him and it makes Harry want to float, to fly and never come back down.

“There’s something about you Harry, I can’t quite put my finger on it,” he hears Louis call when he reaches the stairs.

His magic spurs to life inside of him and before it can act up, he hurries down the stairs, a stupid grin on his face. If Cher comments on it, wondering why he’s so giddy, his only response is crash into a pan and send it knocking to the ground.

—

After Louis’ look earlier, he should’ve figured this would happened.

If not that, he should’ve realized soon after Liam knocked on his door and talked him into a game of scrabble that took _five_ hours.

“Liam, can we please just—“ Harry starts to request and Liam makes a shushing sound, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at his letters.

“I’m about to win Harry, don’t ruin this for me. I never win against Zayn,” Liam says, lips twisting into a frown. A few feet away from them, Zayn is sitting on a chair and he nods in their general direction when he hears his name.

From his spot on the floor, Harry sighs heavily.

“I can always just quit and you’ll win by default,” Harry suggests and Liam fixes him with a look of despair.

“That’s not _winning_ , Harry. We have to follow the rules of the game,” Liam reminds, picking up one of his letters and giving it a considerate glance over.

Harry decides he’s had enough and lowers his eyes to his own letters. In a split second, he feels them turn gold and then suddenly all the letters are the same. An _L_.

He takes the letters in his hand and then holds them out to Liam. “You’ve basically won anyways,” Harry informs and Liam casts a cursory look over the letters.

“They’re… they’re all the same,” Liam states in disbelief and Harry nods.

“Exactly,” He agrees. “Now that you’ve won, can I go back to my room?”

Liam hesitates, biting his bottom lip before chancing a look over at Zayn who looks more alert. “How about a rematch?” Liam suggests, pushing the letters into a pile.

Harry groans, shaking his head. “Liam, you’re great and all and that’s really sweet of you to suggest. Honestly, thank you for spending time with me but I really, really don’t think I could handle another game of scrabble.”

“How about monopoly?” Liam sounds a lot more frantic now and Harry is immediately suspicious.

They’ve been cooped up in this room for over half the day and only now does it occur to Harry that something weird might be going on.

He feels a burn in his veins at the feeling of worry seeping into him and his first instinct is to wonder if they found out about his magic—about the girls’ magic. If he’s failed to protect them.

“Thanks but I’m good,” Harry answers and he hopes his voice doesn’t shake. “I think I’m just going to go check in on the girls, if that’s alright with you?”

“ _No_ ,” Zayn immediately protests and then looks abashed at his outburst.

The burn in Harry’s veins grows stronger and he curls his fingers into his palms, feeling his nails bite crescent shaped marks into the skin. The pain helps to keep him level-headed.

“Why not?” Harry asks and he’s already getting up, reaching behind his neck to fix his scarf.

Zayn and Liam both get up with him, matching distressed looks on their faces. They only stare at each for a few beats of silence while Harry glances back and forth between them before Liam heads to the door and rests his body against it.

Harry raises an eyebrow and his nails dig deeper into his palm. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Liam answers airily, shrugging his shoulders. Harry narrows his eyebrows and then a hand lands on his shoulder, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

In response, his magic comes out in a burst and the door flies open. Harry panics for a second that it’s going to crush Liam but then he sees him ducking out of the way at the last moment.

He hears Zayn curse quietly beside him before rushing over to Liam, who’s staring at the door with wide eyes, a hand held to his chest in surprise.

Harry bites his lip nervously and takes his own step closer. “Are you alright?”

Liam still looks shell-shocked but he manages a nod and Harry lets out a sigh of relief. He tentatively reaches out and places a hand on Liam’s shoulder, nodding once before turning to leave.

On his way back to the girls’ rooms, he has to pass the kitchen and as he’s doing so, he starts to hear loud voices speaking over each other. He pokes his head into the kitchen to see Felicite cutting some tomatoes, her expression exasperated.

“It’s the least we could do for him, stop whining about it,” she reprimands and Harry notices Daisy and Phoebe on the ground next to her, pouting as they peel onions.

Lottie walks over then, holding a raw chicken with a disgusted look on her face. Harry almost laughs but then he doesn’t. Instead, there’s a feeling of relief running through him—the assurance that he hasn’t let them down.

“We could give Harry a banana and he would be happy,” Daisy grumbles and Harry starts at the mention of his own name.

“It’s true,” Phoebe agrees. “I offered him a banana yesterday and I thought he was going to cry from happiness. Or maybe he just has shiny eyes,” she continues to muse before returning back to her peeling. “I’m not sure.”

“Honestly, what type of Princesses _are_ you? We were raised better than this,” Lottie scolds, setting the chicken down gingerly. “Harry has been nothing but nice to us so we’re going to return the favor. That’s it. No more complaining.”

Phoebe sighs but nods and Daisy mirrors her. Harry feels a smile pull at his lips. This is why they’ve kept him locked up in a room all day—they’re trying to surprise him with a dinner.

“What are you doing?”

Harry jumps in surprise, elbow knocking into the wall. His first reaction is to make sure the girls didn’t notice (which they didn’t) and his second reaction is to turn to the person speaking to him.

Louis is standing there, hip cocked and eyebrows raised.

It’s entirely possible that Harry is going to die.

“I was just—“ he starts and then makes a vague gesture.

Louis’ eyebrows somehow raise further up, disbelief written across his face. “Are you, by any chance, peeping, Harry?”

“I—“ Harry squeaks before ducking his head, unable to form any other words.

He feels warm fingers caressing his neck and when he glances up, he sees Louis fixing his scarf for him. “They’re trying to surprise you, Harold. It’s not a surprise if you know,” Louis reminds, brushing dust off one of Harry’s shoulders.

Harry just flushes and Louis smiles at him in an indulgent type of way. “Listen love, just go to your room and pretend you saw nothing, okay? I won’t tell them if you won’t.”

When Harry nods, a bit dumbstruck at the endearment, Louis claps a hand onto his other shoulder, fully grinning now. “Good lad, good lad. Also, nice little body.” The Prince winks, laughing brightly before his arms fall to his side and he shoulders past Harry gently.

Harry stands there in silent disbelief before reaching up to brush his fingers over where he can feel the phantom ghost of Louis’ warmth.

Later, it’ll turn out that Harry is shit actor and the girls will know within seconds that he knew. Zayn and Liam will hang their heads in shame. Louis will play footsies with him underneath the table, a silly grin tugging at his already smiling lips.

It’s a good day.

 

**Day 13; Wednesday, May 14th, 2014.**

 

Wednesday brings another round of mortification.

This time, it’s a little more intentional than the last time, though.

When Harry’s walking back to his room after teaching Daisy how to braid her hair with magic, he hears noises coming from Louis’ room again.

He hasn’t seen Louis since the garden party they attended earlier where Harry struggled to keep his bow tie from falling from his neck.

There were several close encounters to the tie falling right off of his shirt but whenever that was the case, Louis would detach himself from whomever he was speaking with in order to fix the tie for Harry.

His eyes were a dark blue and he’d pinch Harry’s arse every time he went back to the other guests. Harry thinks he just barely stopped from passing out in a mixture of mortification and arousal.

However, at the time, Harry just fixed a smirk onto his face and raised his wine glass towards the Prince before turning his back on him.

Now, Harry is standing a few feet from Louis’ door, bottom lip worried between his teeth. There are soft sounds coming from behind the door and Harry recognizes them.

He knows that that the right—and smart—thing to do would be to just keep walking right past Louis’ room to his own but there’s a magnetic pull there that’s slowly pulling him closer to the door.

Coincidentally, the door is open just a crack once again. Harry thinks that Louis should ensure in better locks if this is the outcome.

All of his thoughts fly out of his mind though, when he catches sight of a tan and naked Louis Tomlinson lying in the middle of his bed, fingers in his mouth.

He’s slurping down on them nosily, eyes shut and legs spread wide. He looks content, sucking on those three fingers while his other hand is slowly trailing down his stomach.

Louis’ thighs are thick and golden and Harry wants to take his time and mark up each individual spot on them. At the same time, he wants to feel Louis’ scruff against the inside of his own thighs.

Another thing he wants is Louis’ mouth sucking him messily the same way he’s doing to his fingers right now, muffled moans escaping.

It’s then that Louis makes a pretty gagging noise, arching his back and his free fingers brush idly against his hipbones.

He’s so unbelievably beautiful in this setting, caramel hair pushed back messily and lips bitten red. When he finally opens his eyes, they’re a dark blue and he wraps a hand around his cock.

Louis proceeds to take his own sweet time to slowly slide his hand up and down, clearly teasing himself as his thumb presses against the head.

Harry’s mouth waters at the thought of getting Louis’ cock in his own hand or possibly even his mouth. He’s half hard in his jeans and he doesn’t even refrain from letting a hand reaching down to cup himself over the material of his skinny jeans.

When Louis pulls his fingers out of mouth, they’re wet with spit and he starts to reach for his nipples, twisting them. This time without anything in his mouth, he lets out an unabashed moan and Harry softly groans under his own breath.

He knows this is horrible of him to be doing—to watch the Prince get himself off again but at the same time, his feet feel glued to the ground and his eyes are most definitely glued to the way Louis is rutting up against the empty air.

Harry pathetically feels his own hips snap forward without permission, desperate for friction. Finally, he shoves a hand inside his pants, wrapping his fingers around his own cock.

Meanwhile, Louis is picking up the pace, jerking his cock in quick pumps, thumb swiping over the head every odd stroke.

His nipples look painfully red now and he moves his other hand between his legs. Harry can’t see what he’s doing at first but then Louis spreads his legs even wider, lifting his hips off the bed.

Harry inhales sharply at the sight of Louis’ fingers circling his pink hole, never breaching. His other hand is pumping his cock a lot quicker now, his breath coming in uneven tufts.

Louis groans quietly and then mumbles something Harry can’t hear. The Prince continues to jerk rapidly, shifting between that and languid strokes, keeping the pace uneven.

Meanwhile, Harry’s squeezing the base of his cock to keep from coming his own pants but then he’s helpless but to stroke in tune to Louis once the older man groans a little louder.

The fingers sliding messily near Louis’ hole move their way back up his body until they’re twisting his nipples again, making Louis grunt.

Harry bites down on his lip roughly to keep any sound from escaping as Louis start to fuck up into his own hand, cock disappearing in his fist.

It’s only when Harry hears Louis’ quiet moan of, “Yeah, fuck— _yeah, Harry_ ,” that the world seems to stop, Louis’ fingers still wrapped around his cock.

Harry nearly falls over as he comes, having to grab the doorway to keep from falling headfirst into the Prince’s chambers. It’s alright though because just as that happens, Louis comes in his own hand.

In Harry’s case though, there’s come all over his hand and some of it is on his thighs, stark white in contrast to Louis’ tan skin. Harry takes a slow step backward, still overcome with dizziness.

All he can think of is Louis’ voice, soft and scratchy as it said his name.

When he gets back to his room, it keeps playing on a loop and he gets hard again just thinking of it. He comes three times that night and the only person he can blame is Louis.

 

**Day 14; Thursday, May 15th, 2014.**

Harry wakes up to Liam knocking on his door and informing him he has nothing to attend throughout the entire day.

It doesn’t register then because it’s six in the morning but once he actually manages to roll out of bed four hours later, he’s confused.

He goes down to breakfast with the girls, all of whom looks particularly cheerful but Louis isn’t present. Harry wants to ask but he doesn’t because Felicite and Lottie are already starting to give him pointed looks anytime their brother is within a ten foot radius.

That’s why he stays silent and forks his pancakes without much to say. Daisy seems to notice because she gives him a strange look once or twice.

Once they’ve all finished and Harry is walking to his room, the twins catch up to him in the hallway. They’re wearing matching dresses; Daisy’s dress is white and Phoebe’s dress is black. Harry doesn’t know why but it makes him start wondering about whether everything really is black and white or if the gray areas are more prominent.

He thinks back to last night and he knows that if everything ends up being black and white, he falls right into the black category.

Then he thinks about the fact that maybe he’s not the only one. Obviously watching someone wank is a huge invasion of privacy but it _was_ Harry’s name that Louis was moaning—so maybe, he’s not completely in the wrong? Maybe there are gray areas?

All the same, he really shouldn’t be making excuses for what he did.

“Harry!” Daisy squeals and he has all of a second warning before she jumps into his arms. He manages to lift her in time, twirling her around once before setting her back down.

“Daisy!” he shouts back, equally cheerful before turning to Phoebe and tipping his imaginary hat. “And the lovely Phoebe, of course.”

Phoebe giggles in reply, curtsying. “Harry!” she greets before saying, “Are you busy?”

Harry pretends to think about it, holding a hand to his chin before shaking his head, grinning at the pair of them. He pushes his worries about Louis to the back of his mind and replies, “Not at all.”

“Awesome!” Daisy exclaims, turning to Phoebe excitedly. “Can we have a lesson today?”

That makes Harry falter and he glances around to make sure there are no guards nearby, listening in. Luckily, there aren’t and he feels the muscles in his shoulder relax as they drop in relief. “Yeah, of course, we can. Are your other sisters busy?”

Phoebe shakes her head in confirmation. “Nope! We all have nothing to do all day!”

Harry laughs, bending down to ruffle Phoebe’s hair. “Alright, let me just go get my stuff and then I’ll meet you in your room?”

“Actually, do you know where the attic is?” Daisy wonders and Harry turns to face her, a confused expression on his face. That’s answer enough for her because she continues, “If you go to the door across from Felicite’s room, there’s a flight of stairs. Take it up and you’ll be in the attic.”

It takes a minute to process but then Harry nods, agreeing and both the twins smile at him before skipping off. Harry watches them disappear before standing up straight and walking to his own room.

It takes him a while to find the necessary books he needs and then it takes him an even longer time to find Felicite’s room. He ends up having to ask one of the maids who raises her eyebrows but gives him directions dutifully.

When he finally gets to the attic, the girls are off doing their own individual things. He raises an eyebrow at Felicite who opens the door for him and she shrugs. “Figured there was less of a chance of someone just randomly walking in on us if we’re all the way up here.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows before giving her an impressed look. “You’ve thought about this quite a bit, haven’t you?” he asks, setting the books down on a table.

“Yeah, about fifteen years,” she mutters and Harry pretends not to hear that because he doesn’t want to start thinking about the fact that they’ve been alone, fending for themselves for so long.

He picks up one of the books and goes to sit next to Lottie, who’s currently occupied with her phone. Harry glances over her shoulder and she’s on twitter, scrolling through her mentions.

“What are you doing?” He wonders as Felicite takes a seat on his other side, beckoning for the twins to join them.

“Just on twitter. You’ve got a lot of followers, did you know that?” Lottie informs, turning her screen so that he can see. He has about a hundred thousand followers more than he did the last time he checked.

“Why do I have so many?” Harry asks in disbelief and Lottie shrugs before pulling up a tweet. It’s a picture of him and Louis from a few days back, Louis’ hand low on his back and his lips hidden behind Harry’s hair as he whispers something into Harry’s ear. Harry swallows loudly, expression uncertain. “Is that why?”

Lottie shrugs again before pulling up various more tweets. There are more pictures of him and Louis and then some of him and Daisy or him and Lottie.

“They think you’re dating Louis,” Felicite whispers smugly in his ear and he flinches before scowling at her. She grins in return and Harry sighs.

“Let’s get on with our lesson, shall we?”

—

It’s hours later, near midnight that he hears noises outside his room. This time it’s voices, quiet murmurs that Harry can just barely hear.

He sits up in bed and blink his golden eyes at the door until he can see right past it. There’s two figures in the hallway and after a few moments of Harry adjusting to the light, he can make out that the two are Louis and Zayn.

“You’re a right idiot, you know that?” Zayn asks, playfully ramming his shoulder against Louis’.

In response Louis shrugs, throwing an arm around Zayn’s shoulders to keep him from shoving into him again. “Yes, I’m aware actually. Are you quite finished?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and his face is incredibly soft. It’s a face of ridiculous fondness and it’s one Harry knows well from Niall. “You know this won’t end well, babe,” Zayn murmurs, shaking his head and smirking.

For some reason that makes Louis sigh and he nods. “Nothing ever does for me.”

In reply Zayn frowns and he shakes his head. “Don’t say that. You’ll be king, alright? It’ll happen. He’ll help you make it happen.”

Harry almost loses his concentration at that because they’re talking about _him_. However, he keeps his eyes steady on the door and focused on the pair.

In response to Zayn, Louis cracks a small smile that’s just on the right side of impish. “Hopefully that won’t be the only thing he’ll be helping me with.”

Zayn purses his lips before saying, “I suppose he could teach you a thing or two about poetry,” and cutting off with a mischievous grin.

Louis laughs sharply, reaching out to hit Zayn in the chest. “Shut up! He’s just really cute. I feel dumb just opening my mouth around him.”

“I’m sure you could open your mouth around him for different reasons—“

“You’re terrible,” Louis protests. “I just want to hold his hand and take him on dumb dates. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

“Next thing I know, you’ll be waxing poetry about his ripped jeans and how without him you’re weaker,” Zayn teases, nudging Louis’ hip with his own.

Louis groans, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculously cheesy. I would never in a million years even think about doing something like that. That’s for those gross couples that are so sickeningly in love that you want to punch them. No thanks.”

“Whatever you say,” Zayn croons, reaching up to pinch Louis’ cheek. In response Louis makes a face before retracting his arm from around Zayn’s shoulders and instead punching him in the arm.

Right afterwards, Louis laughs before running away to his room and after a few seconds Zayn follows after him, shaking his head and there’s a fond twist to his lips.

Harry blinks in surprise and something hits him in the face. It takes him a moment to realize half his clothes are floating aimlessly around the room.

It takes him another moment to calm his magic down to the point that he can actually light a candle without setting the entire room on fire.

He keeps candles around just for moments like this, when he can’t be bothered to turn on the actual lights; a small flame will do just as much as good as anything else.

He can feel the warmth from the candle against his cheeks but he knows that’s not the only reason that they’re flushed pink.

Louis Tomlinson thinks he’s cute. Louis Tomlinson wants to hold his hand and take him on dates.

It’s quite possible Harry’s dreaming. That’s the only explanation to the fact that the conversation he heard was even real.

Harry settles back in his bed and blows out the candle for good measure.

It takes him a while to fall asleep but it’s alright because something tells him it takes the Prince just as long to fall asleep on the other side of the hallway.

 

**Day 15; Friday, May 16th, 2014.**

 

After much deliberation, Harry finally presses send on his email to Leigh.

He’s a bit wary this time because in the one week since the last email, he’s somehow grown even fonder of Louis. He isn’t sure how that’s possible, but it is.

In the draft, he briefly remembers mentioning something similar to ‘Louis is spontaneous, loud, loud and loud’ because he’s an idiot and also terribly fascinated by Louis.

Earlier in the day they attended a reception for someone’s wedding and Harry doesn’t think he took his eyes off Louis for one second. It seems he’s not the only one with a staring problem because he’d catch Louis staring back at him more often than not.

Harry isn’t sure what they’re doing but he likes it well enough so he’s not going to ask questions. Instead, he’s going to call his sister on skype and pretend that he’s totally cool with all of this.

Gemma picks up after the third ring and her hair is blue. Harry blinks in surprise before raising an eyebrow and asking, “Again?”

In reply, his sister shrugs, self-consciously playing with a stand. “I like it, bugger off, H.”

Harry holds his hands up as a sign of surrender before grinning. “I like it too, in case you were wondering.”

Gemma rolls her eyes before smiling back at him. “Of course you do, you brat.”

That makes Harry’s grin widen and he shrugs. “Call me what you will, Gemma, but you’re not in Kensington Palace so I don’t care.”

“Yeah, alright. Don’t gloat. Well actually—I kind of want to know everything, so spill,” she demands while her eyes glow gold and a cup of tea comes floating towards her.

“Not much to tell,” Harry replies, reaching for his own cup of tea with his hand. He takes a sip and nearly burns his tongue off so he’s quick to put it back down onto the table.

He sees Gemma barely attempt to hide a smirk before she raises an eyebrow, lowering her cup to her lap. “What’s Larry Stylinson then?”

“Who’s that?” Harry wonders, pushing his laptop forward so he can lie down and rest his head on his arms. “Do I know him?”

What he said manages to startle a laugh out of his sister and she raises her palm to her forehead in disbelief. “You’re kidding, H. You don’t know what it is? It’s your name and the Prince’s mixed together. You know, like Brangelina? The two of you supposedly have a bromance; what’s that about?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Harry breathes in surprise. “That’s a thing?”

“What type of journalist are you? Shouldn’t you be up to date with all the media surrounding the royal family? Pull it together,” Gemma teases, flicking her hair out of her face.

“Listen, I am _busy_ and no one asked you for your input,” Harry grumbles under his breath and Gemma laughs in reply.

She has a bright laugh and her cheeks dimple more than his do. Harry misses her a lot, now that he thinks about it. He tries not to think about it often—not just here, in the palace, but even at home. He rarely visits Holmes Chapel and since Gemma works from home, he barely sees her or his mother and Robin.

“I miss you,” Harry blurts then and Gemma stops laughing to offer him a soft smile.

“I miss you too, Harry. Come over soon, yeah? Mum’s having empty nest syndrome and I still live here. I’m not sure how that’s even possible.”

Harry feels his lips turn up at the corners. “Yeah, well you know how Mum is. Send her my love.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Gemma agrees before raising her eyebrows pointedly. “Aren’t you going to send me any love?”

Harry scoffs playfully, shaking his head before slowly shifting to nods matching with a huge grin. “Alright, alright. I love you, Gem.”

Of course, just as Gemma is replying, “I love you too, H,” the doorknob turns and Louis walks in.

Louis freezes where he’s standing, eyes shifting between Harry’s laptop and Harry. The bright smile he walked in with is slowly shifting into a frown and Harry wishes he could magically whisk it right off his face.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Louis asks and Harry immediately shakes his head.

He opens his mouth to answer but Gemma beats him to it. “Who’s that? Is someone else in the room?”

Harry splutters for a few moments, unsure of what to say. “It’s—erm—“ He looks at Louis for indication of what to say but Louis is looking anywhere but at him. “It’s Prince Louis,” he finally admits and Gemma’s lips part in surprise.

“The Prince? The Prince is in the room while I’m skyping with you?” Gemma asks, disbelief coloring her tone and Harry nods in chagrin.

“Yeah,” he confirms, turning the laptop to face Louis who shoots him a glare before fixing a smile onto his face and waving.

It’s a smile that Harry has memorized. It’s his professional smile and Harry hates it.

“It actually is the Prince,” Gemma mutters almost to herself before shaking her head abruptly. “Nice to meet you, your Highness.”

Louis nods once. “It’s nice to meet you as well,” he says but his voice is blank compared to its usual brightness. Harry frowns at the older man in confusion but Louis ignores it in favor of asking, “Are you Harry’s girlfriend then?”

Both Harry and Gemma stare at Louis dubiously before Gemma breaks into laughter and Harry hears something crash onscreen.

“She’s my sister,” Harry mumbles in embarrassment, wanting to smother himself with his pillows and Louis finally looks over at him, blinking in surprise.

“Your sister,” Louis repeats slowly before looking back at the screen where Gemma is still laughing. “She’s your sister.”

“Yeah,” Harry affirms and Louis’ face turns into one of mortification.

“Oh,” Louis mutters and his voice is already much brighter than before, even as he’s ducking his head. “In that case, it’s very lovely to meet you,” he says as he turns to Gemma.

“I’m sure,” Gemma agrees, smirking and Harry prays that she doesn’t add onto his already growing mortification.

“Right.” Louis shifts on his feet for a moment before turning to Harry. “I was going to ask if you wanted to join me and Liam to this art gallery opening but if you’re busy with your sister, that’s fine,” he offers timidly, looking unsure as he stands in Harry’s doorway and Harry instantly nods.

“I’d love to join you. Gem, I’ll—“ he starts but she cuts him off with a roll of eyes.

“Just go. Have fun and text me pictures,” she demands before the screen suddenly changes to the skype home screen.

Harry pouts a little at the empty screen before turning to Louis who’s still standing there, expression back to sheepish now.

“So. Art gallery then?” Louis tries and Harry has to bite back a smile as he rolls his eyes and shuts his laptop.

“Yeah, art gallery then.”

 

**Day 16; Saturday, May 17th, 2014.**

 

“No! You can’t wear black! _I’m_ wearing black! I hate when we match so can you please not?”

“Excuse me? Why do you get to wear black? Why don’t you change _your_ dress? I’m wearing my dress whether you like it or not.”

“What about me? I don’t want to wear this—this is gross! I hate yellow. I _don’t_ want to wear this! Why does she get to wear the pretty blue one?”

“Blue is my favorite color, why wouldn’t I wear the blue one? You don’t even like blue!”

“Yeah, well, I hate yellow more!”

“Both of you need to shut up! I’m trying to have a conversation—I’m wearing black. Me. Understand?”

“Don’t tell them to shut up! And no, I’m wearing black and if you have a problem, go take it up with someone else!”

“Listen, you stupid—“

“Okay,” Harry interrupts loudly, eyes wide. All the girls turn to look at him with irritated expressions, clutching their dresses in their hands. “How about this—we’ll go to Caroline and she’ll figure something out. She’s your stylist, right?”

Lottie pulls a face. “I already like this dress. I don’t want a new one.”

Harry groans quietly, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. How about this? You can wear that. Felicite, I promise I’ll get you a nice dress if you give me ten minutes. Also, stop arguing over who’s wearing black. Both of you are going to wear black—I’ll wear black too. Matter of fact, the twins are going to wear black as well. All of us. Black. Okay?”

Daisy starts nodding eagerly and eventually the other three nod too, looking wary. Harry lets out a sigh of relief before turning to the twins’ dresses. He mutters a few words under his breath and his eyes flash gold—within seconds, their dresses are black.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry promises before turning on his heel and leaving the room. There’s a huge charity ball tonight and it seems all the Tomlinsons are losing their shit.

With good reason he supposes, since they are the ones hosting it after all.

Harry is pretty excited actually because he’s never been to a ball, much less one as fancy as this. However, he’ll be on duty. He’ll be taking notes and adding it to the timeline that Leigh asked him to create.

Still, there will be plenty of time for him to enjoy himself and he’s pretty sure Daisy won’t let him go the entire night without dancing with her at least once.

He finds Caroline in one of the rooms on the second floor and she’s busy sewing something. She points him in the direction of a huge closet and tells him to choose whatever he wants from there because it’s all in Felicite’s size.

It takes a few minutes of Harry rifling through different dresses, even going as far as holding them up against himself and looking in the mirror to see if they look alright.

He knows he’s found the perfect dress when he holds it up and sees the intricate design running across the back. It crisscrosses across the entire expanse of the back before flowing into a smoother design that’s plain black. Harry thinks it fits Felicite well so he grabs it and waves to Caroline before hurrying back into the hall.

When he’s on the first floor, heading to Felicite’s room, two guards pass by and give him strange looks. They don’t say anything, even as Harry flushes, and instead they just keep walking. Harry stares after them for a beat too long and when he turns back around, Louis’ standing there.

Louis glances down at his arms where he’s still holding the dress and Harry stays utterly silent, unsure of what to say. Louis raises his head then and meet Harry’s eyes. After a moment, he says nothing and keeps walking in the other direction.

Harry furrows his eyebrows before shrugging. Better for him anyways. He makes a move to continue walking but then he hears Louis ask, “What are you doing?”

He instantly turns around to see Louis’ raised eyebrow. “Um. I’m running an errand. For Zayn,” Harry answers because that’s the first thing he thinks of. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just say the dress is for Felicite. His brain clearly doesn’t work around Louis.

“For Zayn,” Louis repeats slowly, voice blatant with disbelief and his eyebrow raises higher, disappearing into his fringe.

“Yes,” Harry says, biting down on his tongue seconds afterwards because he’s a complete idiot.

“Strange,” Louis replies, narrowing his eyes.

Harry spares a glance down at the dress until it occurs to him what he’s really telling Louis. He laughs nervously and says, “I don’t think it’s for him.”

Louis smiles then, eyes crinkling. “As long as you do a decent day’s work, Harry, that’s all I care about.”

It takes a few beats of a silence before he realizes what Louis is thinking. Harry’s eyes widen and he gestures towards the dress in his arms frantically. “No, it’s not for me!” but Louis is already turning around, making a move to leave.

Louis turns around then, even as he’s walking backwards and he’s still grinning. “What a man does in his spare time is completely up to him, Harry.” He immediately turns back around and continues walking to the end of the hall while Harry splutters uselessly.

“No, you’ve got this wrong!” Harry eventually manages to call and he hears Louis laugh.

“The color suits you, Harry,” Louis shouts back and disappears around the corner while Harry is left to shake his head in confusion and disbelief before he finally turns and goes to Felicite’s room.

He drops the dress in her arms, muttering, “Your brother thinks I cross-dress now. I’m going to go lie down for a few hours and consider about my life choices.”

She laughs at him and he scowls. He proceeds to head back to his room and then he takes a nap. If he happens to dream of a world where he wears a dress and Louis rips it off of him, that’s his own business.

—

“One more dance, Harry! Please!” Daisy tugs on his arm and Harry rolls his eyes before nodding, setting his journal down on the table.

The charity ball was a lot more than he expected and he lives in the Kensington Palace right now so that’s saying something.

He’s sat at a table with the rest of the Tomlinsons and he’s seen people give him the odd look or two but he’s brushed it off in favor of watching Louis laugh and dance with everyone who has come up to him.

At one point, Harry spotted him dancing merrily with Zayn and then proceeding to Liam before pushing them both together and running away with a grin on his face.

Harry is so hopelessly endeared that it’s slightly alarming.

He’s also seen Louis dance with guests, men and women alike, as well as his own sisters. He’s dancing with Lottie right now and Harry watches him for a second, watches the straight line of his back and the scruff dusting his cheeks and the way his suit fits him perfectly.

Daisy clears her throat and Harry blinks, startled. “Well?”

“Right,” Harry mumbles, shaking his head to clear his thoughts before taking her hand and standing up. She leads them to the middle of the room, with people dancing on either side of them. Harry, however, is an awful dancer so he just sways side to side and occasionally twirls Daisy.

He personally thinks this is Daisy’s excuse to not have to dance with anyone else but he keeps his mouth shut and dances with her and only her as many times as she pleases.

They’re mid-dip when there’s Harry sees someone’s shadow behind them. He twirls Daisy until they’re both facing the person.

It’s Louis, who smiles before saying, “Can I cut in?”

Harry nods immediately, letting go of Daisy’s hands and taking a step back. “Go for it,” he offers, gesturing towards Daisy who’s giggling for some reason.

Louis’ smile grows and he shakes his head. “I was rather wondering if I could dance with you, actually.”

Harry falters before breathing, “Oh,” in surprise. He glances down at Daisy but she’s gone and it’s just the two of them in the middle of the crowd. “I mean—yeah, of course.”

When Louis reaches for his waist, Harry feels a sharp searing flash run through him. He blinks, disoriented for a second but then Louis takes his hand and pulls him closer.

He rests his own hand on Louis’ shoulder and then they’re suddenly waltzing.

“Where did your dress go?” Louis murmurs and Harry laughs nervously.

“Must’ve left it upstairs,” Harry replies and then he notices the way that Louis gets on his tiptoes every time they twirl and starts to giggle.

Louis scowls at him before purposely stepping on his toes making Harry squeal in surprise. He nearly bumps into one of the guests but Louis pulls him back in time. “Christ, you’re like a baby deer,” Louis mumbles and Harry flushes.

There’s a moment where they’re just dancing, a moment where it feels like the two of them against the world before Louis breaks the silence. “You look stunning if it isn’t obvious.”

Harry offers him a confused smile before replying, “Thank you.” He tries not to focus on the compliment too much because then he’ll probably end up being the one stepping on Louis’ toes if he does. Instead, he changes the subject. “You know, you’re quite the dancer.”

“Well,” Louis starts before he reaches up and spins Harry. “I’ve had training. I happen to be the Prince of Wales.”

Harry turns back into him with a soft smile and he murmurs, “I know.”

Everything feels electric between the two of them and Harry wonders if he should be afraid of getting shocked by currents. Or, even worse, whether Louis should be afraid.

It’s nice like this though—however, Harry feels eyes watching their every move. People staring at them blatantly as they spin and twirl their way across the ballroom.

He likes it a little; likes knowing that he and Louis are something to watch, something to look for when they’re together.

“Harry, you there? Kind of zoned out on me for a second,” Louis teases and Harry laughs quietly in reply.

“Sorry. This is just all really surreal. Also, I’m quite awful at dancing and the less I think about it, the less likely I am to send the two of tumbling over, honestly,” Harry admits.

Louis tilts his head, eyeing Harry quizzically as if that wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “We wouldn’t want that,” he agrees quietly after a moment. “I keep forgetting you’re not with us permanently. That you haven’t been here this entire time. You fit here... Almost as if you belong with us.”

Harry widens his eyes a little, snippets of conversations about fate slipping into his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

To that Louis shrugs. “I don’t really know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Humor me,” Harry pleads and Louis hums quietly, his hand settling on Harry’s waist again after a spin.

“Well, the girls like you. They adore you, even. You’re not nosy and strange—okay, well you might be a _little_ strange,” Louis teases and Harry pouts. “Just kidding. Well, not really but I like that about you. You’re quirky.”

“Quirky,” Harry repeats, furrowing his eyebrows and Louis laughs, shaking his head.

“Yes, quirky. Stop looking so much like an angry kitten; you’re going to end up upsetting all the girls in here because you’re cuter than them,” Louis whispers like it’s a secret, leaning in closer so his lips brush against Harry’s ear.

Harry has to refrain from shivering as he asks, “Well aren’t you quite the Prince Charming?”

“Only if that makes you Snow White,” Louis replies easily, winking once before pulling away from Harry and bowing. “Thank you for the dance.”

“You’re—you’re welcome,” Harry stutters and Louis offers him a quick grin before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Harry standing alone.

He blinks in Louis’ general direction for a few seconds and then starts in surprise when he feels someone’s hand on his arm. “I told you that you were Snow White,” Felicite gloats, eyes bright. “Now come dance with me.”

 

**Week 4**

**Day 17; Sunday, May 18th, 2014.**

 

Harry wakes up to someone knocking on the door.

First, he’s confused.

Then he’s a little irritated because it’s his day off and there’s no reason for anyone to bother him until it’s at least five in the evening.

He blinks at the clock which reads noon and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and walking to the door. He’s a little unsteady on his feet for a few seconds but he does manage to make the walk without falling down so he considers it a success.

After deliberating for a moment on whether he should actually open the door or just crawl back into bed, there’s another knock. That makes Harry sigh and he reaches for the doorknob before turning it.

The door opens by a crack and he peaks one eye out. There’s a guard standing there, watching Harry’s one eye in bemusement. “Mr. Styles?”

“That’s me,” Harry agrees, cracking the door further so he can stick his whole head out. “Can I help you?”

The man looks uncomfortable but he nods his head. “Our Royal Highness has requested for your presence on the roof.”

Harry’s still tired so it takes a moment for him to process what the guard is saying but when he does, he sighs again and rolls his eyes. “Which Royal Highness are we talking about?” Harry asks, leaning a hip against the doorway and pushing the door open further.

The guard’s expression is still bemused but eventually he answers, “The Prince.”

That wakes Harry up rather quickly. He blinks rapidly in surprise before opening his mouth and then closing it, unsure of what to say. “The Prince?” Harry repeats before another thought enters his head. “The roof? There’s a roof?”

This time, the look guard gives him is dubious. “Yes, sir. There is a roof. Just like in most buildings.”

Harry flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Of course, there’s a roof. Erm—I don’t know how to get there though?”

“I’ll show you the way, once you’re ready.”

Harry blinks a few more times before nodding and shutting the door.

Ready. He has to get ready.

Is this a formal event? Should he be wearing a suit? Or should he just throw on some jeans? Isn’t it supposed to rain today? Is Harry still dreaming?

He has so many questions but he doesn’t even think about asking them as he tugs on a pair of dark jeans and throws on a button up plaid shirt. He hesitates a moment before grabbing a scarf that matches his shirt and wrapping it around his neck.

It’s possible he beats a record with how quickly he gets dressed and opens the door. The guard doesn’t say anything but Harry can feel the contempt rolling off of him.

Harry stands there awkwardly for a moment but finally, the guard turns on his heel and starts walking to wherever they’re meant to go. Harry follows after him and they have to go up a flight of stairs that Harry didn’t even know existed before they reach a hallway with an open trapdoor in the ceiling.

Of course, there’s someone hanging upside down from the trapdoor and their grin is infectious when they spot Harry.

Harry gets to catch a glimpse of the childish side of Louis as the tanner man smiles impishly at him, eyes crinkling in the corners. His hair is all over the place, giving him a certain boyish quality that he was previously lacking. His cerulean colored eyes are staring right into Harry’s mint green ones, holding this warmth that burns so brightly that Harry feels like he might explode just by looking at him.

He barely notices when the guard leaves, still staring at Louis who’s staring right back. “Coming?” Louis calls, his lips stretching even wider across his face. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Harry shakes his head immediately, taking a step closer. “Is it safe?”

In reply to that Louis raises an eyebrow. “Do you trust me?” His smile looks almost hopeful, even as he’s upside down.

Harry hesitates all of one moment before all coherent thoughts fly right out of the window that is his mind, replaced by the strong urge to join Louis so he nods and does.

He walks up to the trap door and Louis grins before pulling himself back on to the roof. Seconds later, a rope ladder falls through the trapdoor and Harry climbs it. When he gets to the top, he finds himself met with dozens and dozens of flowers along with a clear blue sky. He sucks in a breath, momentarily amazed at the sight before he pulls himself out on the roof.

Everything feels alive here—the air feels almost as if it’s vibrating with energy. “It’s beautiful,” Harry finds himself murmuring.

“Yes, it is,” Louis agrees and Harry glances to the side to see the tanner man sitting on a picnic blanket. There’s a basket next to him and Harry tilts his head in confusion.

When Louis sees Harry looking over, he pats the spot next to him and Harry’s feet move without consent. He finds himself sitting down next to the Prince in a matter of seconds.

“I figured you didn’t have breakfast,” Louis murmurs, gesturing towards the basket and Harry’s almost positive he’s glowing, eyes wild and bright. It’s hard to believe this was the same man crying outside his door just a few weeks ago.

“You’d be correct,” Harry agrees, eyeing the basket and Louis pulls it towards them before taking off the lid. Inside, there’s fruits and sandwiches. Louis motions for him to take something so Harry grabs an apple and sits back. There’s another Snow White parallel there but he refuses to make it as he takes a bite.

“Thanks,” Harry murmurs after he swallows and Louis nods, still smiling. His smile _is_ actually infectious and Harry feels himself smiling back at him.

Louis closes his eyes then and leans back on his hands, keeping his face tilted towards the sun. They’re both silent and Harry can’t help but stare.

It’s no realization that the Prince is gorgeous but seeing him this close is an entirely different thing. He looks oddly soft. His skin is golden and his eyelashes are fluttering against his cheeks. Harry thinks they may be his favorite thing about Louis.

“I can feel you staring,” Louis breathes and Harry flinches back in shock before letting out a nervous giggle.

“You’re nice to look at,” Harry replies once he manages to get the words past his lips. He’s content with what he said because it makes a smile stretch across Louis’ face and he turns his head towards Harry before blinking his eyes open.

“Are you going to include that in your article?” he teases and his voice is lazy drawl, scratchy and tired.

“It wouldn’t be an article about you if there wasn’t a section about how good looking you are,” Harry answers, winking exaggeratedly and Louis barks out a laugh.

Harry flushes and Louis’ eyes twinkle as he tilts his head. “You’re something else, Harry.”

“I take pride in that,” Harry admits truthfully, before his eyes flicker to the flowers around them. “Did you plant these?”

Louis hums quietly before nodding. “Yeah, I did. Well, not all but most. Daisy and Phoebe helped me, just a bit. And maybe Zayn and Liam. Possibly a lot of the household staff.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head before nudging Louis. “They’re dahlias, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are. How did you know?” Louis wonders, tilting his head, eyes wide and curious as they stare at Harry. They’re pretty eyes, Harry notes absently.

“I just like flowers,” Harry answers, blinking a little before leaning away towards a batch of flowers on his other side. “Is it like a family thing?”

“Growing dahlias? No, not really. I wasn’t kidding before when I said I planted most. Well, I was, but I’m the one who takes care of them, you know? I check up on them a few days a week. Ever since—“ Louis pauses, lips twisting into a thin line before he shakes his head and puts his hands in his lap. “Ever since my mother died, I’ve been planting them. They remind me of her, I guess.”

“Oh,” Harry murmurs, biting his bottom lip. “Well they’re beautiful. I’m sure she’d be proud.”

Louis glances up from his lap to give him a small smile. “Thanks Harry. I appreciate that.” There’s a pause before Louis breaks it with, “Would you like some?”

Harry immediately turns towards him, lips parted in surprise. “I—erm, no. They’re for your mother, I wouldn’t want to—“

“Harry, shut up,” Louis says and Harry immediately closes his mouth which makes the Prince smile. “They’re not for her. They’re for anyone who wants one. In fact, they’re for everyone.” Then Louis reaches behind his back before pulling out a singular red dahlia. “And this one is for you.”

Harry hesitates a second before reaching out to take it from between Louis’ fingers. “You planned this,” he accuses but there’s no heat behind his words. Instead, he thinks his eyes are probably shining as they observe the flower.

“Maybe I did,” Louis agrees, smirking a little. “However, I love storms and also planned for it to rain but it’s pretty obvious I don’t control the weather.” He gestures towards the clear sky before rolling his eyes.

They’re closer now, elbows almost touching and Harry wonders if using his magic right now would be too dangerous, too stupid. However, the need to make Louis happy wins out over his common sense so he pretends to turn to the basket for another fruit.

Instead, his eyes flash gold and it takes a few more seconds than his everyday average magic but it prevails because suddenly there’s a loud clap of thunder and a lightning bolt shoots through the sky.

Beside him, Louis flinches back in surprise before tilting his head up to the sky in shock. “Well, I’ll be fucked,” Louis mutters, just as a rain drop hits his cheek.

Harry hides his smile by taking another apple and biting into it.

“Maybe you do control the weather,” Harry offers a few seconds later and Louis turns to him before letting out a laugh that’s mixture of shock and awe.

“It’s actually raining,” Louis says to himself, holding his palm just to see another raindrop land on it.

It’s times like these Harry is grateful that his power is this much, this strong. That he can actually create a lightning storm by just batting an eye.

They spend the rest of the afternoon there, eating and trading stories about whatever comes to mind and Harry doesn’t let the rain become heavier than a slight drizzle.

Still, when they finally go inside, they’re shivering and wet and Felicite smirks when she passes them by. It’s an eventful day for Harry’s day off.

**Day 18; Monday, May 19th, 2014.**

 

Harry is on the phone to Niall, walking to his room, when he sees Louis’ door cracked just slightly open in a way that’s all too familiar.

“Oh,” Harry murmurs to himself in surprise.

“What?” Niall asks on the other line before following up with, “I didn’t even get to the good part of my date with Barbara. Why are you saying ‘oh’?”

“Um,” Harry says blankly. “Can I call you back?”

There’s silence on the other end before Niall starts cackling into the phone. “Sure, Haz. Wash your hands before you call me though.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows until he realizes what Niall is saying. “How did you—“ he starts but then he hears the dial tone.

Sometimes Harry wonders if Niall has magic of his own. This is one of those times. Or it’s possible he just knows Harry really well.

He thinks he should probably be more ashamed of his actions if even his best friend can tell through the phone what’s going on but that doesn’t stop him from tiptoeing his way over to Louis’ door.

He takes a deep breath before glancing through and just as he’d though, Louis is on his bed with a hand shoved down on his pants.

Harry swallows uncertainly but doesn’t move an inch, keeping his eyes on the Prince. Louis is making sounds too low for Harry to catch but he can see them escaping from Louis’ parted lips and the way his hips keep snapping up into the air.

When Louis pulls down his pants, Harry bites down on his bottom lip, eyeing Louis’ cock even though he has no right to. It’s a nice cock is the thing—fairly pretty, in Harry’s honest opinion.

Harry’s not sure what’s worse—the fact he’s admiring Louis’ cock without the older man knowing or the fact that he wishes it was choking him. It’s probably an even trade.

Something’s different today though and Harry isn’t sure what.

Louis glances over at the doorway, almost like he’s checking for something and Harry ducks away, until to glance back a few seconds later.

The older man isn’t staring at the door anymore but he has a self-satisfied smirk and Harry doesn’t know what to make of that so instead he focuses on the way Louis is toying with his nipples.

Harry’s jeans feel a lot tighter as he leans against the door, eyes following the way Louis arches his back and keens lowly when he pinches one of his nipples. He’s all golden, his entire chest and his thighs. Harry often gets the urge to bite every inch of skin there is, to mark it up an even darker color but that isn’t what he’s here for.

When Louis grunts Harry’s name, Harry nearly trips over his own feet in surprise. He’s still having a hard time believing the last time Louis said his name when he was wanking but now he’s doing it again.

Louis is stuttering through his breaths now as he wraps a hand around his cock and Harry swears he hears him murmurs, “Harry, oh _fuck_ ,” lowly as he drags his thumb over the head of his cock and breaks off into a gasp.

He whimpers then, tracing a vein along the underside of his cock. “Harry, _oh, oh_ , fuck, _Harry_ ,” Louis pants, breathing harshly and Harry nearly bites his tongue off, fingers digging into his palm.

When he finally starts to stroke his cock, Harry can almost see his eyes roll back in his head and then the only sound that fills the room is harsh breathing and the sound of skin sliding against skin.

Harry watches as Louis stops pumping his cock to grab lube off his nightstand instead, where he pours a light amount onto his palm before he returns to stroking his cock.

The sight makes Harry whimpers quietly and he sees Louis’ head snap up. For a second, he’s worried but then Louis relaxes again, biting his bottom lip as he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock.

He hears Louis moan quietly, a noise that sounds vaguely like his name and a second later, Louis groans, “Mm, _Harry_ , yeah,” confirming it.

Hearing Louis say his name like that makes Harry even harder in his jeans and he thinks about reaching into his pants but then decides that maybe he shouldn’t.

Just as he makes his decision, Louis starts to pinch his nipple between his fingers with his free hand before he switches to the other one. He makes pretty noises every time he pinches the nub, arching off the bed slightly and Harry’s own hips buck helplessly into the empty air.

Louis’ is still working over his cock and Harry watches as he thumbs the slit before using the precome gathered on his fingers to slide smoother down his cock.

Harry feels like there isn’t enough air in his lungs as he watches Louis snap his hips, spreading his thighs and whining, “Fuck, fuck, yeah,” along with quiet mutters of Harry’s name.

When Louis comes all over his fist, Harry thinks that maybe he needs to wash not only his hands before calls Niall but his jeans as well.

 

**Day 19; Tuesday, May 20th, 2014.**

 

Harry only remembers right as they’re about to leave the palace that he has to take pictures of Louis for the article like Leigh said. It’s because of that he has to dash back to his room and get his camera before coming back down, out of breath.

When he gets into the car, he has to take a moment to breathe but then the door opens and Louis slides in, grinning. Maybe Harry should be more surprised and maybe a little scared because yesterday was the third time he watched Louis get off but really, he’s just trying to catch his breath.

“Alright there, pal?” Louis asks, slapping a hand down onto Harry’s knee who nods back at him, rolling his eyes. Louis doesn’t move his hand and Harry doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m fine, I just needed to get this,” Harry answers, gesturing towards the camera in his hands. Louis’ gaze flickers down to Harry’s lap before he glances back at up Harry with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s that for?” Louis wonders and Harry hands it over without saying anything else.

Louis takes it and turns it on all while giving Harry a curious look. When it turns on, Louis immediately goes to the photo gallery and starts flickering through photos just as Harry expected.

There’s pictures on there from over the last year; pictures of concerts Harry attended, pictures of him and various celebrities, pictures of random fruit and often random men. Somewhere in there, there’s dozens of pictures of him and Niall and it seems those are the ones that interest Louis because he pauses on them longer than the others.

“Niall, right?” Louis checks and in the pit of his stomach Harry feels something he doesn’t know how to put into words. He didn’t expect Louis to remember trivial things like his best friend’s name.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees before tilting his head to see the photo that Louis is looking at. “That’s from my birthday.”

Louis snorts, before turning the camera towards Harry. “Is that a tiara, Princess?”

It takes all of two seconds for Harry to recognize the picture of him and Niall from just a few months ago. For some reason one of Harry’s friends decided the best way to spend Harry’s twenty second birthday was to put a crown on his head and Harry wasn’t one to complain so there he is, tongue stuck out and tiara on his head while Niall laughs brightly.

“So what if it is?” Harry mumbles, scowling and Louis laughs fully this time, shaking his head.

“Nothing. No need to get so defensive about it, Princess,” Louis teases before he turns the camera back towards him. Harry doesn’t expect the camera flash which is why he blinks, startled when it goes off in his face.

Louis is staring at the camera with a grin and Harry pouts at him, making grabby hands for his camera back. “You’re awful,” Harry groans and Louis just shrugs in response, still grinning down at the small camera screen.

“One of my most favorable traits, I’m sure,” Louis replies easily before finally looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. “Why do you have a camera with you anyways? Looking at my face isn’t doing it for you anymore?”

Harry continues pouting so Louis rolls his eyes and hands the camera back after a few moments of deliberation. In response, Harry grins toothily at him before immediately going to the gallery, ready to delete the picture.

He ends up not doing it though because when he finds the picture, he actually likes it. He’s scowling at Louis but his eyes are incredibly warm. He wonders if he looks at Louis like that often.

Another reason he ends up not deleting it is because Louis took the picture. Prince Louis Tomlinson of Wales held his camera and decided to snap a picture of him which is an accomplishment in itself. He couldn’t possibly delete the evidence. That’s what he tells himself anyways as he puts his camera back down without hitting the delete button.

“Your face is definitely doing it for me,” Harry offers, throwing in a wink for good measure and Louis smirks but doesn’t say anything. “And the camera is for your face anyways. It’s for my article. I need to take pictures of you doing your job and stuff. You don’t mind, right?”

“Why would I mind?” Louis asks, exasperated as he reaches over to tug Harry’s scarf. It confuses Harry for a moment until he realizes that Louis is fixing it.

“I don’t know? Maybe you don’t like having pictures taken of you,” Harry reasons while Louis busies himself with readjusting the mint green scarf that’s wrapped around his neck today.

“Yeah, of course. Prince Louis doesn’t like having pictures taken of him. Even as thousands of photos float around of him on the web. What world do you live in, Harold?” Louis mutters but there’s a small smile toying at his lips as he finally sits back in his seat, patting Harry’s chest for a good measure.

“Alright, alright. No need to bite,” Harry says, holding his hands above his head in a general gesture of surrender.

Louis quirks an eyebrow and his foot nudges Harry’s as he moves to sit straight. “If that’s what you think biting is, you’ve got another thing coming, Styles.”

Harry blinks at him before he feels his face flush and inside the marrows of his bones there’s pulses of heat, pulses of fire spreading through him. “Is that a threat, your Highness?”

“That’s a promise,” Louis answers just as the car halts to a stop. “One I intend to keep,” He adds on before moving to open the door.

“I look forward to it,” Harry mutters to himself and Louis grins at him before opening the door and walking out. Harry waits a few seconds before following after him.

Today, Louis is doing a speech for a bunch of primary school students. Harry hopes he doesn’t become more enamored than he already is because it’s becoming quite the problem.

When they get into the school, pushing through countless reporters as well as paparazzi, Harry realizes that even if he technically is one of them, a part of the media, he’s actually a lot more. He knows this because the entire time that they’re walking, there’s a steady hand on the small of his back leading him where he needs to go.

“Didn’t want you to get lost,” Louis murmurs in his ear before he’s whisked away by Liam who offers Harry an apologetic look.

He feels someone rest a hand on his shoulder and when he turns, Zayn is standing there with an amused expression. “You would think Louis would know better than to whisper dirty talk in your ear in the middle of a primary school, but that’s Louis for you, isn’t it? Quickies in the car then?”

Harry gapes at him for a second before abruptly shaking his head, eyes wide. “He wasn’t—we aren’t—“ he splutters and Zayn chuckles before pushing Harry in the opposite direction of where Liam and Louis are going.

“Just kidding, babe. Loosen up,” Zayn assures as he leads them into a huge assembly hall. “But I do hope if the opportunity were to come up, you’d belt out _Partition_ at the top of your lungs.”

 “I would not—” Harry says, protests dying in his throat when Zayn starts laughing heartily, all while maneuvering in between people in order to make way to the front of the assembly hall.

Harry nearly crashes into more than one person on several occasions because between his clumsiness and his disbelief at what Zayn is saying, he’s about as graceful as a baby deer.

“It’s just a joke, Harry,” Zayn says, taking the steps to the stage two at a time while Harry gapes and follows after him because he’s only seen the older man joke _once_ in the entire time he’s known him.

He doesn’t get time to protest any further because Zayn disappears, leaving Harry on the side of the stage, fiddling absently with his camera.

When Louis comes on stage, Harry has to take a moment to get a grip on himself. For how much of his time he spends looking at Louis, it still leaves him a little speechless to see the older man dressed up in a suit, hair swept messily to the side and half of a smile on his face.

Louis is breathtaking in the best way possible and the second Harry can feel his hands again, he lifts his camera up and starts to take pictures.

The speech Louis gives is one of his best ones, filled with bright smiles and shiny eyes. Harry thinks it probably has a lot to do with the kids that are staring up at the Prince in awe but he keeps his mouth shut and instead lets his lips pull up into a small smile.

He’s glad that Louis looks like this—that he’s practically glowing—because it makes for excellent pictures. Harry has to circle around the back of the stage to get better angles but it’s alright because he catches Louis’ eyes on him at certain points, watching him.

He flashes Louis a thumbs up when he sees the Prince glance over again and Louis grins before offering him a thumbs up back from where his arms are hanging at his side.

Harry definitely catches it on camera.

It’s only later when they’re getting ice cream and Louis is pulling a funny face at him that Harry realizes a lot of these pictures are more for himself than anyone else.

It turns out that he doesn’t care because when Louis takes his camera from him and flips it around so the lenses is facing them, he makes just as silly of a face as Louis does.

He, however, does care a little when he gets mint chocolate chip ice cream shoved down the front of his shirt and Louis runs away laughing like a ten year old.

Just a little though because Louis is the sun and Harry feels ridiculously like the moon.

_he shines like the sun / and I would love to reflect his light back at him / to show him the way he shimmers and glows / to show him how he lights up my world / like nobody else_

 

**Day 20; Wednesday, May 21st, 2014.**

 

Harry is in the middle of teaching Felicite how to turn a stone statue of a frog into a real frog when his phone rings. He doesn’t bother moving, just motions for Felicite to keep trying and then blinks over at where his phone is with golden eyes.

In a matter of seconds, it floats over and he answers it without looking at the caller ID. Felicite groans as she messes up and Harry makes a circling motion with his finger, signaling for her to repeat the spell.

“Hello?” Harry answers into the phone, putting it in between his shoulder and ear while shaking his head at Felicite. He grabs the spell book on the table next to them and points at the spell again.

She sighs but nods and tries to repeat the spell just as someone replies on the other line with, “Harry! You finally picked up my call. I’m sure you’ve been busy though so I don’t blame you. How’re things going with the girls? What about Louis?”

The span of time it takes for Harry to realize who it is and for him to accidentally break the statue in front of them is pretty short.

Felicite startles back, eyes wide and Harry mouths an apology while reaching up to grab his phone. “I don’t want to talk to you, Simon. There’s a _reason_ I haven’t been picking up your calls,” Harry mutters, lips thinning into a frown.

Simon chuckles on the other end as if he thinks that Harry’s joking. He doesn’t know if he could be more serious if he tried.

He frowns, raising a hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose just as Simon says, “Okay, okay. I was just wondering if you’d told the Prince about the girls’ magic yet. That’s your job, you know that, don’t you? Well part of it anyways. You’ve also been teaching the girls, right?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Harry replies coldly, turning away from Felicite who’s raising an eyebrow at him now. She already cleaned up the mess of marble and put the pieces back together with a spell Harry taught her earlier in the day. Harry is impressed at how well all of them are catching on.

It’s supposed to be their break but Felicite stayed behind because she insisted she really wanted know how to bring inanimate objects to life. Harry is nothing if not a people pleaser.

“Harry, don’t be so bitter. This is how fate wanted it to go and that’s why it’s going this way. It’s your destiny to help this family, to help the girls and to help Louis. You must know that,” Simon insists on the other end and Harry scowls even though Simon can’t see him.

“I could care less about destiny and fate. I am here to do my _job_. As in to write an article on whether Louis Tomlinson is fit for the crown. Nothing else is my ‘job’ as you keep putting it. Don’t think I didn’t have Niall read over those contracts because I did and nowhere does it say I am obligated to do anything _other_ than my job so stop asking me do things that aren’t required of me,” Harry finally snaps into the phone, letting his irritation get the better of him.

It’s just that the prospect of telling Louis that his sisters have been a hiding a secret from him their entire life isn’t something Harry looks forward to, especially now that he actually knows Louis.

He knows Louis and he knows that something Louis values above anything is honesty and Harry doesn’t know why he even tries because he’s easily the biggest liar in this entire palace.

Telling Louis about his own magic would be one thing but to tell him that Harry has known about his sisters’ magic for three weeks is an entirely different thing. To tell him that he’s been teaching his sisters magic, that he’s been helping them in the lie they’ve held together for eighteen years, to tell him it’s the secret his father kept from him and his mother on purpose is just—it’s something that Harry shouldn’t be doing, not when it changes everything Louis has ever known.

Not when telling Louis means losing him.

Harry feels a headache coming on and when Simon finally speaks up, saying, “I’m not telling you to do anything, Harry. You can’t defy your destiny. The harder you try, the worse it’ll be. There was a man like you once and he tried everything to stop his destiny but in the end, if it hadn’t been for things he did trying to prevent his destiny, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Fate has a funny way of working out, Harry. Don’t think you can escape this so easily—“

He doesn’t let Simon finish talking, instead hanging up before he can hear another word. He doesn’t want to hear about his destiny. He doesn’t want to hear about how he’s supposed to protect this family and help them because he’s just a twenty two year old who has no idea what he’s doing.

“Harry?”

Felicite is standing behind him, expression concerned because the statue is once again in piece on the floor and Harry slumps his shoulders, setting his phone down. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to do it right,” Harry murmurs, lifting a hand and letting the marble pieces fit together until it forms the original statue of a small frog.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Felicite cuts in, still looking worried and Harry nods even as he feels an uncomfortable twisting in his gut.

“I’m fine. Now say this with me, alright? _Bebiede þe arisan cwicum_. Say it with me, really slowly,” Harry instructs and Felicite gives him one last look before sighing and turning towards the statue as well.

“ _Bebiede þe arisan cwicum_ ,” they say together and then there’s a quiet _ribbit_ filling the room.

“Harry!” Felicite squeals in delight, racing forward to pick up the frog which croaks again. She looks enchanted and Harry thinks that’s why he’s teaching the girls how to use magic—so they can learn what they can do and be proud of it. Not because destiny told him to.

Felicite gives him a blinding grin then and he returns it with a small smile, even though he knows it won’t reach his eyes. She doesn’t notice though and that’s what matters.

—

Later in the evening after he’s finished his lessons with the girls and successfully caught a frog, it’s clear everyone has picked up on his mood.

Zayn and Liam drop by first, offering Harry pizza and video games. Harry goes with them, of course but he kind of just sits there quietly instead of actual doing anything.

He doesn’t _mean_ to sulk. It’s just that now he’s thinking at a mile a minute and all he can think of is how he’s a liar and how easily removed he’s going to be from Louis’ life and how Louis is completely unaware of all the things Harry is doing.

Harry actually feels a bit nauseous now that he’s staring a pizza right in the face and he finally makes an excuse to go back to his room. Zayn and Liam don’t follow after him but they do frown at his back.

It’s only when he’s in his bed, lying down and trying to clear his mind that someone knocks on the door. His first thought is that it’s Zayn and Liam again so he’s ready to send them away but then the door opens and Louis sticks his head in.

He hasn’t seen Louis since dinner when the Prince waggled his eyebrows and threw bits of a roll at him. Harry didn’t even have the energy to throw anything back. He just sighed quietly when bits landed in his hair and reached up to shake his hair out before going back to eating his food.

“Hey, I heard you’re not feeling well,” Louis says quietly and then enters the room when Harry doesn’t say anything back. He shuts the door behind him and walks towards Harry’s bed before sitting down at the foot of it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry turns to face him, staring at him for a few moments before shaking his head. “I’m alright but thank you for checking up on me,” He says weakly and Louis’ lips tilt down into a frown.

“You don’t seem alright. Is something bothering you? Anything I can do to fix it?” Louis tries and Harry kind of wants to cry because he can’t very well say the problem is Louis.

He’s a grown man though so he takes a deep breath, blinking a few times to keep any possible tears from forming and then he murmurs, “I’m good, really. Don’t worry about me.”

Louis is giving him a hard look now, eyebrows furrowed together and lips pursed. “You don’t have to lie, you know. Everyone has bad days. No one’s judging you if that’s what you’re worried about, far be it me,” the Prince mumbles, licking his lips and Harry shakes his head again.

“That’s not what this is about. I’m okay, Louis. Trust me,” Harry says and he has to force the words from his lips. Louis shouldn’t trust him, at all. In fact, Harry should be the last person Louis trusts.

Louis doesn’t say anything else then and then Harry feels him get off the bed. He assumes Louis is going to leave so he turns back towards his pillows and clenches his eyes shut.

Seconds later, they snap open when he feels a weight on the other side of the bed and then someone is climbing under the blankets with him.

“Hey,” Louis whispers, just barely brushing noses with Harry. “Are you really alright?”

Harry nearly whimpers because the temptation to kiss Louis is too much even as he should be pushing him away and making him leave. Instead, he nods and whispers, “I’m good,” all while keeping his eyes trained on Louis’.

He doesn’t dare let his eyes flicker down to the older man’s lips because all that will do is probably cause Harry to faint or something equally as stupid.

“I don’t believe you,” Louis replies and then Harry shivers when he feels cold toes pressing against his calves. “I think you’re lying to me.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees weakly, unsure what he’s even replying to because there’s a rush of heat inside of him, a golden type of burning that fills his veins in a way Harry has never experienced.

“Yeah?” Louis repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah as in you’re lying to me? Or yeah as in I shouldn’t believe you?”

“Yeah,” Harry says again, digging his fingernails into his palms because he’s never been this close to someone when his magic was acting like this. He doesn’t know how to control it and the last thing he wants is for Louis to get hurt.

“Yeah as in what?” Louis wonders, nudging Harry with his knee and it’s clear that’s what causes Harry to finally snap because all of a sudden, time slows down all around them.

Even the dust motes in the air are moving slower and Harry is both wide-eyed and panicked.

He’s never made _time slow down_ before. Paul told him that even the most powerful of sorcerers struggle to deal with things like time which is intertwined so deeply with the magic of the universe that it’s nearly impossible to separate them.

Louis is still staring at him with bright blue eyes and Harry really hopes he doesn’t pass out. He has to take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth before concentrating on letting time turn back to its normal pace.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, probably too quickly before shoving his face into his pillows and counting from a hundred backwards in his head.

Louis doesn’t say anything for a while but around seventy-eight, he feels Louis’ fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry melt into his touch and it seems Louis takes it as a good sign because he starts to card through the rest of Harry’s hair. His nails scratch lightly against Harry’s scalp and Harry really hopes he doesn’t actually whimper aloud.

Having people playing with his hair is probably one of Harry’s favorite things. He wants to say Louis is definitely soulmate material now but then that makes him think back to his conversation with Simon and he has to start counting backwards again.

He gets to around forty-three when he feels his thoughts slipping from him. He doesn’t make it to thirty-five. He does, however, feel lips brush against the side of his head before he loses count.

 

**Day 21; Thursday, May 22nd, 2014.**

 

Harry wakes up to the feeling of someone jumping on top of him.

He yelps in surprise, eyes flicking open in surprise and hands coming up absently to rub at his eyes. He blinks at the person whose face is a foot above his and then nearly falls off the bed in shock.

“ _Niall_?” Harry shouts, scrambling backwards and the blond man grins, blue eyes bright.

“You’ve got a really nice bed here,” Niall comments, rolling off of Harry to grab one of the pillows. “Everything is so soft.”

Harry gapes open mouthed, unsure what to say and Niall tosses the pillow at his face. That wakes Harry up rather quickly and he pulls the pillow into his lap before giving Niall a dubious look.

“How are you here right now? Did I magically teleport you? What the hell is wrong with my magic lately, I don’t understa—” Harry begins to complain and Niall slaps a hand over Harry’s mouth harshly.

Harry flinches and Niall casts a glance over his shoulder before flicking him in the arm with his other hand. “Are you trying to get killed or something? You don’t even talk about your _gifts_ this loudly at home. For all I know, there’s probably a Royal army waiting outside the door to murder you, so please, lower your voice,” Niall requests, pulling his hand away from Harry’s face.

“There’s no one here,” Harry reassures before rubbing his mouth because surprisingly, Niall’s hand actually kind of hurt. He idly wonders if his best friend has been working out. “Except you. How are you here exactly? Not that I’m not happy because trust me when I say you could not have chosen a better time to drop by.”

Niall offers him a considering look then before frowning. “Why, what’s happened?” he asks quietly and he looks concerned. Harry feels a little bad but then he’s suddenly very glad because having Niall to talk to here in the flesh is a lot better than over a computer screen.

“A lot,” Harry admits, running a hand through his hair. It feels softer than usual and he thinks back to last night, of Louis’ fingers running through his hair. He wonders if Louis’ lips have their own magical touch—if Louis left some sort of trace in his hair. As it turns out, he really doesn’t care all that much.

He turns back to Niall then and suddenly everything spills out. Everything from his first day with Louis crying outside his room to yesterday’s phone call.

It’s only been three weeks, but it feels like it’s been much longer with how much has happened. He feels different, like these past weeks have changed him as a person.

He tells Niall as much and Niall listens quietly, eyes clouding over with concern but there’s a certain understanding there too. Harry knows he wouldn’t trade Niall for anyone because no one else would sit there and listen to Harry like this and not say a single thing back.

Harry finishes by saying, “And then there’s Louis and he’s just so—you know? I don’t even know, honestly. He’s just so lovely and I don’t—I don’t know, alright? I like him, Niall. As in I genuinely like him and I’m not even halfway done with this job and I don’t think I can make it without somehow falling in love with him, I really don’t. I’ve never met anyone like him and he makes me feel like I’m golden. He makes it feel like I’m on fire—like I burn for _him_. There’s this constant buzzing under my skin every time I’m around him and I could live with that buzz forever because it just feels _right_. I don’t understand why I feel this way and I don’t know what to do and it feels like there’s too much going on at once. I’m afraid I might explode in golden flurries and it’s so overwhelming and I’m _scared_ , Niall. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell him that his entire family has been lying to him for over a decade! I don’t even know how to tell I’ve been lying to him for the past three weeks! Not to mention, the girls could be in danger and I still haven’t told him and he loves them more than anything and everything is so, so fucked up, I don’t know what to _do_.”

Niall is staring at him with his jaw slack and after a few seconds, he scrubs a hand over his face and mutters, “Well fuck me.”

Harry snorts lowly even though he feels drained of any and all amusement and then he nods. “You’re telling me.”

It feels nice to let everything out though, to let it all off his chest. He’d taken to just writing everything his journal in the meantime but telling another person feels a lot better than scribbling his feelings into the margins of his notes.

“I feel like this is a bad time to mention that Louis is the one that invited me here today,” Niall finally says and Harry gives him one withering look before passing out.

Well, not actually passing out. Niall says he was only unconscious for five minutes—ten minutes, tops. That’s not all that terrible.

Then Niall tells him he’s going to be staying for the next two days, all coupled with worried looks and Harry comes to the realization that it might actually be a terrible idea.

He’s basically losing his shit and it seems Niall knows it too because later when Zayn comes by and asks if Niall and Harry want to join them in the arcade, the Irishman declines on their behalf.

It’s probably a good thing too because it becomes rather apparent that Harry needs a day to himself, to just breathe and Niall is good at letting him breathe.

Instead of making Harry talk more, Niall tells him about Barbara and what Harry’s been missing and how Ben has come to their apartment begging for Harry to come back to work for him, which all in all makes Harry laugh and smile which he feels like he hasn’t done in forever.

 

**Day 22; Friday, May 23rd, 2014.**

 

Harry moves to his right, coming to a stop on one knee. He’s ducking behind an old, rusty car when he hears another shot of off. He holds his own gun up, pointing the nozzle towards the opposite side of the arena where he can just barely see the hint of a head.

He grins and he’s just about to shoot when the head disappears behind a barrel. He cusses quietly under his breath and beside him, Niall nudges him, gesturing towards the other corner of the arena.

Harry nods and then silently slinks across the room, walking on his knees. His breath is near silent now and his eyes are glowing gold. The sunlight is beating down on his skin and he reaches up to wipe his forehead free of sweat.

That’s when he hears a click that means a trigger is about to be pulled.

He doesn’t let himself think as he drops flat against the ground, just barely missing the shot. It hits where his head was just a second ago.

Harry rolls over on the ground before immediately standing up and running around a barrel, loading his own gun. He lets his magic do it for him, the same way it’s making sure he doesn’t trip over his feet like usual. He takes a deep breath before getting back down to his knees and crawling behind a different barrel. He instantly flips around, glancing just a bit above it as he scans the area for any sight of Louis, Zayn or Liam.

They’re playing paintball.

Niall said that Harry needed some way to physically express his feelings and that they might as well do something of the sort when as fate would have it, Louis stopped by and suggested they all go play paintball, looking a little unsettled. Harry hopes that he isn’t upsetting Louis with the way he’s been acting the lately and that’s one of the main reasons he agrees to go.

When they got to the place though, Niall instantly latched onto him and told him that they were going to win, even if they have to use magic to do it.

Harry is most definitely a pushover as well as a people-pleaser which is why his eyes are glowing gold right now. Anytime he pulls his trigger, a perfect shot is promised.

When he hears the sound of someone moving the barrels just a little bit away from him, he takes a deep breath and stands up, keeping his head ducked as he navigates his way through the arena. It’s an outdoors paintball arena and there’s wood barrels all over the place as well as other hiding spots made up of pieces of woods.

There’s the individual team hideouts, wooden tree houses on either end of the arena and right now, Harry thinks it’s possibly in his best interest to shoot whoever’s near him and then head to their home base to get the flag.

He’s behind a wooden post when he sees the person—Liam. The brown haired man is facing in the other direction, gun loaded and Harry hesitates for a second before aiming his gun and shooting.

Liam jumps in surprise just as the first paintball hits him in the back and Harry keeps shooting, hitting in the same spot repeatedly just as his magic ensured.

At least if everything else is spiraling out of control, he can still get his magic to do what he wants.

Once he’s satisfied with how messy Liam’s back is, he blows off the end of his gun and wipes it on his sleeve. Liam finally turns to him with his mouth gaping open and for a second, Harry panics.

Then he remembers that Liam can’t see his eyes because they’re both wearing tinted goggles. He’s still okay, he’s still safe.

That’s why he salutes to Liam and immediately turns around, heading for the other direction.

Someone overheard announces that Liam is out of the game and Harry pats himself on the back as he ducks behind a wooden barrel. He sees someone walk past him but then he recognizes his team seal on their back so he doesn’t give Niall a second glance.

He keeps going until he can see the other team’s base. He breathes a sigh of relief and then continues jogging towards it, glancing around every few seconds to make sure there’s no one nearby.

Paintball is being surprisingly good for him. He doesn’t have to think about anything other than the game and winning, so there’s that.

Finally, when he’s a few meters away from the base, he chances another look around. Met with nothing, he turns back to the base. When he reaches the tree, he automatically hauls himself up and grabs the ladder. The leaves above him are brushing together in the summer wind and one lands in his hair.

His palms scrape along the wood of the tree as he falters to pull the leaf out but he doesn't give the slight pain in his hands a second thought. He finally stops once he reaches the opening, crawling though in the quickest way he can.

He can see the entire landscape from where he is right now and he sees Niall and Zayn a bit further away from him. He hears loud shots go off then and the intercom announces both Niall and Zayn as having lost.

Harry licks his lips uncertainly, glancing around for Louis but he catches no sight of him. He finally gives up on looking, turning back around to grab the red flag that’s just a few footsteps away.

His fingers are just closing in on it when he hears the sound of a trigger click and he immediately drops, elbows knocking into the wood floor.

Louis is standing in the corner of treehouse, gun raised and Harry doesn’t even think to hesitate as he pulls the trigger of his own gun and starts shooting.

He grabs the flag with his other hand just as Louis drops his gun and holds his hands out in defeat. Harry grins at him, unable to help himself and he puts down his own gun.

Louis helps him to his feet and Harry waves the flag out the window, hearing Niall’s battle cries of happiness even from this far away.

He turns back to Louis who smirks and Harry is suspicious for only two seconds before Louis reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

Harry huffs in surprise, eyes wide and still golden. He lets them fade back to their usual green before settling into Louis’ arms. They feel nice around Harry; strong and secure.

When Louis pulls away, he’s laughing and Harry reaches up to pull off his goggles so he can properly give Louis a confused look.

“Didn’t think I was going to let you leave this place without getting _some_ paint on you, did you Styles?”

Harry glances down at his chest then and snorts to himself just as Louis pulls him in for another hug. As it turns out, he doesn’t mind all that much regardless of how much paint he gets on himself.

 

**Day 23; Saturday, May 24th, 2014.**

 

After seeing Niall off, Harry attends a garden party with Louis and Zayn.

He doesn’t really do much, just taking notes when he feels like it’s necessary. He mainly watches Louis interact with guests and doodles on the cover of his journal.

It’s an overall boring day but Louis comes into his room at some point and invites him to watch _Grease_ with the rest of them, so they do that. It’s nice. It’s also a lot like the calm before the storm.

The girls all seem a little worried about him but he assures them he’s fine even though he doesn’t really know if he is. His state of mind definitely feels better though—he buries Simon’s words in the deepest abyss of his mind and doesn’t let it come out, even as his boss calls him again in the middle of the movie.

Instead, he shuts his phone off and turns back to the film. Eventually, Louis rests his head in Harry’s lap and Harry manages not to break anything with his magic, so he considers that a success.

He sends Leigh his third draft that night and then falls asleep not far after. It’s one of his more relaxing days at the Palace and it’s one that makes him wish he wasn’t leaving in just over a month.

 

**Week 5**

**Day 24; Sunday, May 25th, 2014.**

 

It’s only the fourth time that he walks in on Louis with his hand on his dick that he thinks that maybe Louis knows Harry has walked in on him like this several times before.

Louis is lightly thrusting into his own hand, a satisfied smirk on his face and Harry sees his eyes flicker to the door before he stops snapping his hips up to wrap a hand solidly around his cock and stroke instead.

Harry’s stomach is a mixture of arousal and guilt as he watches Louis whimper, “Yeah, fuck, _Harry_ ,” in a high pitched tone.

It seems that Harry’s a bit later than he usually is because Louis’ eyebrows are furrowed and he looks like he might come any second, thumb swiping over the head of his cock.

Louis is smirking though, despite that he’s on the edge of orgasm and he’s teasing himself, his other hand playing with his nipples, just circling the nub.

He’s still lazily pumping his cock and then Harry watches as his gaze flickers to the door _again_ , like he’s waiting for something... or someone.

Harry briefly wonders if Louis knows he's standing there, watching him stroke his cock and splay his thighs but then Louis is coming all over said thighs, stark white in contrast the tan skin.

Abruptly, his mind is blank aside from the image of Louis Tomlinson covered in his come. It’s not a bad mindset to have in the great scheme of things.

—

Later, Harry is sitting with Phoebe and Daisy, watching some rerun of a Disney show and Louis walks in. He presses kisses to both the twins’ heads before plopping down in the seat next to Harry.

“Writing your article then?” Louis wonders, nodding a head towards Harry’s laptop screen and Harry nods back slowly, feeling his cheeks heat up because not even a few hours earlier, he was watching Louis get himself off.

Louis hums quietly and throws his arm over the back of the couch so it’s brushing against Harry’s shoulders. They’re barely touching but it still feels electric.

“What do you write in your article? Just curious,” Louis says, a nonchalant expression on his face and Harry wonders if he should indulge the Prince by saying overly nice things.

“I—erm, I write about what you do. How you do it. Why I think you’d be good as king. That type of stuff,” Harry answers finally and Louis purses his lips, before leaning in closer to Harry.

“Is that right, Harold?” Louis asks, glancing over at the twins for a split second before looking back at him. “You don’t put other stuff in there then?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, turning to face Louis with a confused expression. “Stuff like what?”

Louis smiles then, before leaning in even further so his lips brush against Harry’s ear. “How about the way you watch me come all over myself? Watch me wrap a hand around my cock and push myself to the edge? The way I say your name—the way I wish it was your mouth around my cock instead? How about that? Do you put that in your article?”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat and he hears Louis chuckle quietly in his ear before the older man pulls away, eyes dark. “Well do you, Harry? Answer me,” Louis demands quietly, a hint of a smirk on his face.

“I—I don’t—I’m really sorry, I didn’t—“ Harry tries to apologize, flushing scarlet but Louis’ half smirk becomes a full blown one now and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

“Don’t apologize for watching. Apologize for not joining me,” Louis murmurs before he stands up and walks out without so much as a single word.

Harry stares after him open-mouthed and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been as flustered or as aroused as he is right now. He excuses himself to which Daisy and Phoebe give him weird looks but they let him go to his room easily enough.

Within twenty minutes, he ends up coming with three fingers inside of him for the second time that day, imagining it was Louis instead.

**Day 25; Monday, May 26th, 2014.**

 

Louis has a football charity match.

Harry all but completely forgets until Liam wakes him up at half six telling him to get ready because Louis has to get there extra early.

He ends up just dressing in the first thing he sees which is a low scoop shirt where the wings of his swallow tattoos are just visible He puts on a white scarf for good measure, wrapping it around his neck securely and then he wiggles into his jeans.

By seven, everyone has eaten and been packed into a car. The girls are in their own and Harry and Louis are in a different one. He has no idea how Zayn and Liam get to these places but he assumes that they have their own car as well.

Once they get there, Louis stops to take some pictures with fans and Harry takes a few pictures of the Prince himself because lately, he’s taken to wearing his camera around his neck so he can always snap photos.

It turns out to be quite useful because halfway through the actual match, Louis pulls his shirt off and Harry nearly collapses on the spot.

Next to him, Felicite laughs and grabs his camera from around his neck. “For your wank bank,” she adds when he gives her a half a second glance of confusion.

He would deny it except he almost immediately turns back to look at Louis, who’s looking right back. Louis winks when he catches Harry’s eye and scrambles off.

At some point, people come over to interview the girls on how they think their brother is fairing in the game. Harry mistakenly turns to Daisy, eyes wide in excitement as Louis makes a goal and exclaims, “Louis’ doing good. I can’t believe they’re winning, it’s sick!” without noticing the camera crew.

Later, he starts to quite literally jump up and down with Phoebe, moving his arms side to side in excitement and of course, the camera crew is there for that too.

Harry wants to regret his life decisions but then at the same time, he really doesn’t care.             

Louis does come up to them at one point and Harry immediately pulls him in for a hug, whispering, “You’re doing really great.”

The Prince beams at him and then runs back towards the field.

Only when it begins to feel hot does Harry take off his scarf, draping it over his shoulder instead. Louis looks over then and trips over his own feet, so without thinking Harry mutters a spell so that Louis regains his balance before he can fall.

He also immediately wraps his scarf back around his neck, hiding a small smirk behind a bigger grin. He’s sort of really proud of Louis despite that he doesn’t know if he has any right to be.

Near the end of the game, Louis runs over to them once again and Harry reaches out to slap his hand but they both miss and Louis casts him an apologetic look as he runs off. Harry barely even notices because he’s grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt.

He notices later when he sees candids of it online. An article pops out, saying, ‘ **PRINCE LOUIS HAS A PERSONAL CHEERLEADER? WHO IS THIS MYSTERIOUS MAN!** ’ and Harry kind of sits there, unsure how his life got to this point.

Louis sees over his shoulder and says, “But you left your skirt at home!” in false outrage and Harry stifles his giggles. Louis then proceeds to slam Harry’s laptop shut and he lies half in Harry’s lap while watching whatever movie the twins put on.

Harry can’t say he’s complaining.

 

**Day 26; Tuesday, May 27th, 2014.**

 

The next day, they’re at a wedding reception. Some third or fourth cousin of Louis’. The Duke of whatever.

Harry doesn’t actually know who it is but what he does know is that Louis is talking the newlywed couple with a huge grin on his face and that he looks rather stunning.

When Louis glances over at him, he winks and Harry feels blood rush to his face. Louis points him out to the couple then and they look over at him with matching curious expressions.

Harry waves awkwardly and the bride waves back, before nudging Louis pointedly and then she and her husband are laughing while Louis shrugs, eyes crinkling from a smile.

They’re rather the cute couple, actually. Harry has been watching them for as long as he’s been watching Louis and he sees the way they finish each other’s sentence and at some points, when one of them moves the other does as well. It’s a bit disconcerting but it’s probably some weird couple thing.

This wedding has done nothing but make Harry a little wistful because gay marriage is still a touchy subject and the only person Harry wants to marry is busy running the country.

Harry blinks in surprise at his own thoughts, unsure where that even came from. _Marry_?

Louis sits down in the seat next to him then, knees brushing together as the Prince turns to face him. “You look a bit lonely, Harold,” Louis teases, before picking up a fork and poking the piece of cake on the plate in front of him.

“I’m just enjoying the view,” Harry says before lifting his journal pointedly. “Doing my job. The usual.”

Louis raises an eyebrow and shrugs before he drops his fork in favor of using a finger to pick up a bit of frosting. “Business before pleasure, I suppose,” Louis murmurs and then puts his finger in his mouth, sucking it clean.

Harry swallows uncertainly, wondering whether he should look away or not. It seems it doesn’t matter if he wants to because Louis takes another fingerful of frosting and holds his hand out towards Harry. “Some pleasure is alright, surely?” Louis asks coquettishly, glancing up at Harry through his eyelashes.

“You’re awful,” Harry mumbles and he’s pretty sure he’s turning a rather dark shade of red as Louis shrugs, putting his finger back in his own mouth and licking the frosting off.

“Nah, babe. I’m awesome. Missed a few letters there,” Louis informs before pulling a face. “God, this cake is _awful_.”

Harry snorts without meaning to and then eventually breaks into shoulder-wracking laughter, hiding his face behind his journal. “Serves you right,” he replies when he catches his breath and Louis pouts at him.

The next thing he knows, there’s a hand on the back of his head and his face is being pushed into a piece of cake. Louis’ grip is tight and he doesn’t let go until for an entire twenty seconds at which point he seems satisfied with the amount of frosting on Harry’s face.

“There,” Louis says, eyes bright. “Covered in white cream. Definitely my favorite look on you.”

—

The one thing Harry realizes that day is that he sort of, kind of, definitely likes Louis. He likes Louis so much that he goes around with a face covered in vanilla frosting meeting anyone who Louis introduces him to.

He also likes Louis so much that he’s thinking about marrying him now. He’s a reached a whole new level of low.

 

**Day 27; Wednesday, May 28th, 2014.**

 

Daisy shoves another vase to the ground, frowning deeply. Harry sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before shaking his head.

“Daisy, come on. That’s not going to help. You just have to keep practicing. Look at Phoebe, she’s got it,” Harry says, gesturing towards the other twin who’s using her magic to both pull fruits off of a table and to catch them in a vase.

It’s something Harry found himself doing a lot at his old job and he figured he might as well teach them. It seemed fun at first but now Daisy looks like she might cry so he isn’t sure whether it was the right course of action.

“Hey, Daisy, it’s fine, yeah? We can do a different spell. Do you want to make flowers? Make daisies?” Harry tries, bending down so he can rest his hands on her shoulders.

Daisy sniffles before nodding and Harry breathes a sigh of relief. Lottie and Felicite are busy trying a sleeping spell on each other and Harry plans on checking up on them as soon as he makes sure Daisy is alright.

“Yeah, okay. I want you to cup your hands together—yeah, just like that,” Harry agrees as Daisy follows his instructions. “Now say _blóstma_.”

Daisy furrows her eyebrows and incants, “ _Blóstma_ ,” slowly.

She waits a moment before opening up her cupped hands and then she squeals in surprise at the yellow daisy in her hand. “Harry! I made a flower!”

Harry smiles, nodding. “Yeah, you did. Good job, Daisy. Keep practicing that. If you imagine different types of flowers, you can make those too. For example, this is a Daisy,” He plucks the flower out of her hand and then gently weaves it into her hair. “And this is a rose. _Blóstma_.”

He twirls the rose between his fingers, before offering it to Daisy who grins and accepts. “Okay, I’ll keep practicing!”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead before standing up and cracking his back. He waits for Felicite to make a disgusted noise like she always does but when she makes no sound, he turns around curiously.

It takes him a moment to make his way through the various set-up of spells all around the room until he gets to the other side. He’s a bit surprised and pleased to find Felicite fast asleep on the couch and Lottie grinning smugly next to her.

“You did it!” Harry exclaims, holding his hand out and she reaches up to smack her palm against his.

“Yeah, I did! I just said _swefe nu_ for the seventeenth time and then bam, she just—“ Lottie tells him excitedly and then Harry laughs, covering her mouth.

“Be careful, you can’t just say spells like that. You’re lucky it didn’t work or I’d have passed out on top of you by now,” Harry teases and Lottie nods seriously.

“Right, right. Sorry. I forget that we can actually do stuff like this now. It’s a bit crazy, you know?” she explains and he nods, sitting down next to her.

“Trust me, I know,” Harry replies and then there’s a sound of the doorknob turning.

Both of them turning to look wide-eyed at the door but thankfully it seems they didn’t forgotten to lock it because whoever’s outside the door is still outside.

“Hey? Harry? Did I hear you in there?” Louis calls and Harry has to take a moment to process that Louis is out there before he starts to panic.

“Shit,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his hair. “We can’t—we don’t have enough time to hide all of this.”

Lottie bites her lip and shakes her head. “Daisy and Phoebe are still doing spells,” She mumbles.

Harry takes a moment to pinch himself before looking back at Lottie. “You go stop them, I’ll figure something out,” He whispers and she nods, already standing up.

Louis knocks on the door again, making them both flinch and Harry gets up himself, taking slow steps until he gets to the door. Once he gets there, he stares at it blankly and he hears Lottie hiss, “Do something!” from the other side of the room.

He takes a deep breath and then unable to think of anything better to do, he reaches for the knob and turns it, cracking the door open just enough so he poke his head out and smile at the confused Prince.

“Harry?” Louis says, furrowing his eyebrows and Harry offers a sheepish smile. Or what he hopes to be a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, this _isn’t_ the bathroom?” Harry wonders, stepping out of the room and shutting it behind him. He hears it automatically lock behind him and he’s glad Lottie knows how to do that.

“Why would this be the—no, Harry, it isn’t the bathroom,” Louis finally settles on saying, still looking confused but a little more amused. “You have a bathroom in your own room, remember?”

“Oh,” Harry replies, attempting to look chastised. “Well. I wanted to see what the other ones looked like. I was a bit bored,” Harry lies and Louis’ face grows more amused.

“Why didn’t you come to me? I could’ve entertained you,” Louis teases, nudging Harry’s foot with his own. The gesture would make Harry smile any other day but he feels closer to a panic attack than anything else.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Harry agrees, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Harry pinches himself on the wrist again just as Louis looks past him towards the door. “What’s actually in there anyways? Don’t think I’ve been in there for a while.”

That’s the exact opposite of what Harry was hoping Louis would ask. “Nothing, it was just really dusty,” He mumbles and Louis hums in assent, but despite this he looks rather curious.

“Dusty? The maids are supposed to clean every room at the end of the week,” Louis informs, tilting his head and Harry laughs nervously, pinching his thigh to keep from panicking entirely.

“I was just kidding, you silly goose,” Harry replies and he sees Louis’ lip curl up. “Nothing interesting though. Just a bunch of furniture.”

“Oh,” Louis murmurs but for some reason he still looks interested. “Want to go back inside? I’m sure we could find something cool to look at. I’m always finding new things.”

“ _No_ ,” Harry nearly shouts and Louis gives him a surprised look. “Erm—I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. Do you think we could go downstairs?”

Louis shrugs, before gesturing towards the stairs. “By all means, go ahead. I’ll catch up to you, yeah?”

It’s clear that fate is testing his patience because Harry is ready to just cast his own sleeping spell on Louis and take him downstairs but at the same time, he wouldn’t feel quite right using magic on him.

That’s why he just gives up and figures he’s bound to have a breakdown one of these days and what with Louis nearly walking in on him teaching his sisters magic, he thinks that’s plenty good of a reason to let himself go into his magic.

Harry swings a little on his feet and then promptly collapses onto Louis who catches him in surprise, expression alarmed. “Harold?”

He doesn’t even bother replying to that and for once, he lets the panic take over until he’s literally shaking. There’s been few times that he’s ever felt himself let go like this and never once was it on purpose.

There was fifteen years ago, at age seven when he flipped over a car on accident. His neighbors found him near frozen to death, shaking violently on the side of the street, just barely breathing.

It happened again at thirteen, when he nearly set his entire house on fire. He managed to stop it in time but then his mother found him just the same as neighbors did six years before that.

The last time was at age eighteen, when he found out the true extent of his powers. When he learned that he could snap a person’s neck without blinking, that he could raise armies of the dead, that he can see into the future.

He fell apart on the spot but luckily, Paul knew exactly how to deal with it so it wasn’t as bad as all the other times. This time though, Harry has no intent of letting it get better. Mostly because he can’t fix it on his own.

It’s rather clear that Louis isn’t handling it well because within minutes, he has Harry in his bed all while he’s making Liam get the nurse and asking Zayn if he should call a hospital.

In the back of his mind, Harry is glad they’re all distracted because that means the girls are safe.

The rest of his mind however, is preoccupied because Harry honestly doesn’t have control of himself when he’s like this. He’s just a few blank thoughts inside of an unresponsive body.

Lottie comes in a while later and convinces Louis not to call an ambulance before she offers to watch Harry while Louis speaks to their nurse. When Louis finally agrees, she comes over to his bed and takes a hold of one of his shaking hands.

“Harry, are you alright?”

He wishes he could reply but he can’t. His magic does for him though, running through him like a current and he knows Lottie feels it because she makes a noise of surprise before her eyes widen. “Oh my— _do_ we need to take you to a hospital? Are you going to be alright? That doesn’t feel normal.”

His magic speaks for him again and she nods, looking slightly concerned. “Alright, no hospital. Got it. Try to be careful, please? We’d rather you didn’t die. I don’t think my brother would take it all that well considering he looks like he might be having his own panic attack. I don’t think we would either.”

Harry wants to offer her a smile but he’s still struggling to breathe properly so he just lets his eyes fall shut and doesn’t open them again. He thinks he’s sleeping but he can feel that his body is still shaking violently, even while he gets to rest.

This is one of the reasons he always pinches himself, keeps himself in check. It’s because he loses control every once in a while and he terrifies everyone around him.

At some point, Louis comes back in and he holds Harry’s hand for what feels like hours and may very well be. Harry doesn’t have a good perception of time when it comes to things like these.

When he finally leaves, Daisy comes in.

She climbs into his bed and takes a hold of his hands before murmuring, “ _Þurhhæle dolgbenn_ ,” over and over. Harry has no idea how she knows the spell but she does and she’s saying it repeatedly, completely concentrated.

Harry feels the way that his magic responds to it, the way it turns golden in his veins. Eventually, he stops shaking and after a few more times of her repeating the spell, he can finally breathe.

It takes him a moment but he manages to croak, “How did you know that spell?”

She blinks her eyes open, noting the way Harry’s hands are steady in hers and then she breathes a sigh of relief before she shrugs shyly. “I didn’t. I had a dream where this happened and I wasn’t sure if it would come true or not but then Felicite told me what happened with you and I told them about my dream. They distracted Louis so I could come in and say the spell.”

Harry takes a deep breath before reaching out and holding his arms out, waiting for the small girl to hug him which she does, rather tightly. “Thank you, Daisy,” he whispers.

She pulls back, smiling and she pats his cheek gently. “Anything for my other big brother.”

It’s a good thing Harry is too weak to do much of anything because he’s pretty sure the light bulbs them would have smashed at any other time. He doesn’t know when he got so attached to this family or when they got so attached to him, but it’s clearly happened and there’s little to nothing Harry can do about it.

So he just sighs, and holds his hands out for another hug.

—

When he’s nearly asleep later and everyone has calmed down, his bedroom door opens and someone tiptoes their way in. It takes Harry a moment to realize it’s Louis but once he does, he shuts his eyes in effort to look as if he’s sleeping.

Louis sits at the foot of his bed for a few beats of silence before he sighs and whispers, “Don’t scare me like that, Harry. This isn’t some sort of fairytale, you know? I can’t just kiss you and have you wake up. That’s not how it works. This is real life and I’m terrified, alright? I don’t want to lose you. I just got you.”

The Prince gets up then and Harry feels lips brush against his forehead before the door opens and closes again. Harry blinks his eyes open the second he hears it shut and then into the darkness, he quietly murmurs, “Fuck.”

**Day 28; Thursday, May 29th, 2014.**

 

Harry decides that he’s fucked up, rather majorly.

He wakes up in the morning feeling like absolute shit—it’s similar to a hangover except it’s ten times worse. He would say that he’s pretty sure he’s dying if he wasn’t aware of the fact that this is a side effect of the fact that he’s alive.

After making sure that the door is locked, he murmurs, “ _Strangaþ_ ,” and the glass of water on the bedside table slides towards him.

Once his throat isn’t dry anymore, he sits up and runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting rather long; he’ll have to start pushing it back with a headband or something. Maybe a headscarf, he muses to himself while reaching for his phone. He turns it on and then it starts buzzing repetitively in his hand.

He blinks down at in surprise and he sees that he has twelve calls, forty three text messages and five voicemails that he’s yet to check.

Harry cringes, calling his mother back first because she’d have his head if he even thought about calling Niall or Gemma before her.

She picks up on the first ring, answering with a timid, “Hello?” that’s so much unlike her that Harry instantly feels bad for making her sound that way. He doesn’t know who told his family what happened but he has a feeling someone told Niall and Niall told them.

“Hey, mum,” Harry replies weakly and he hears her let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright? I was ready to drive down there myself to check up on you. They told me you had a panic attack but you don’t have panic attacks—you have supernatural breakdowns that edge on the brink of death and it takes you _days_ to get better,” Anne says before pausing, taking a moment to catch her breath.

Harry knows she’s right. He doesn’t have normal panic attacks like everyone else—no, his go to the extreme and he knows it’s because it’s not just him panicking, but his magic as well.

Anne continues then, admitting, “I was a bit scared and they said that if I really wanted to, Robin and I could drive down. We weren’t going to though because I know my baby can take care of himself. Still, I couldn’t help but be worried sick and then Prince Louis spent an hour last night reassuring me that you were fine but that confused me even more because the quickest you’ve ever recovered was three days. That was when Paul fed you those weird potions and stuff which clearly the Royal family didn’t do so I just—are you alright, sweetheart? Tell me honestly.”

He nods, even though he knows she can’t see him. “I’m fine, really. I may have neglected to inform you but the Princesses have magic so they _may_ have used it to heal me but everything is totally okay,” Harry tries to say cheerfully but it comes out rather pitiful instead. “Did you say the Prince was on the phone with you for an hour?”

There’s silence on the other end for a while and Harry has to check to make sure that the line didn’t disconnect. It becomes apparent that isn’t the case when Anne finally says, “Harry Edward Styles, what the _hell_ is going on?”

He winces in reply because his mother rarely ever cusses.

Harry hesitates to reply but eventually he does with, “Alright, well you see—basically, all the Princesses are sorceresses and I’ve been their teacher for the past three weeks or so because my boss Simon says that not only do I have to write my article but I need to teach them how to control and use their magic. Also, I’m half in love with the Prince of Wales but I need to tell him that his entire family has been lying to him about who they are for the past eighteen years and that I myself have been lying to him about who I am so all in all, considering the recent circumstances of Louis nearly walking in on me teaching the girls a lesson, I think it’s safe to say that my breakdown was a little warranted, don’t you?”

There’s another period of silence before Anne seems to comprehend what Harry is telling her because there’s a loud crackle as the phone falls. He hears her pick the phone back up and she waits another moment before murmuring, rather gently despite her panicked tone, “You’re in love with Prince Louis, Harry?”

Harry laughs nervously, shaking his head again. She still can’t see him through the phone but he feels the need to emphasize his point. “Not _exactly_ …”

Anne sighs quietly on the other end. “Harry, do you think maybe it would be best if perhaps you passed your assignment on to someone else? I’m really sorry sweetheart, but I don’t see this ending well.”

It’s clear how on the edge he is because that sort of does it for Harry and he pauses only for a moment before he promptly breaks into tears. He can vaguely hear his mother trying to comfort him through the phone but he can’t make out the words that she’s saying.

There’s a roaring in his ears, a noise that is the exact opposite of golden. He feels the edges of another breakdown—or perhaps even a blowback of the first one—coming and he drops his phone to physically push against his own chest, trying to snap himself out of it.

He’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of completely losing it so he continues to hit himself in until his arms ache and his chest burns. Harry inhales sharply and then finally, he starts to dig his nails into anywhere that he can get his hands on.

Usually pain get him to focus but right now all he can think is that _I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up Louis can’t be king I can’t do what I’m supposed to I can’t help them I messed this up I can’t help them I can’t help them I let Louis down I let the girls down I let everyone down I can’t do this I can’t do this it won’t end well it won’t end well I fucked up I fucked up I fu_

His nails bite into the skin of his wrist, hard enough to leave crescent imprints next to the sparrow tattoo and finally, he feels the roaring in his ears start to fade. When his vision stops blurring, he stops pinching and instead he reaches blindly for his phone.

Harry picks it up, holding it to his ear and very slowly he instructs, “I need you to call Paul. Please, _please_ tell him to come see me as soon as possible.

Anne makes a distressed noise on the other end before replying, “Harry… Baby, in the twenty two years you’ve been alive, I have never, ever heard you cry like that. This isn’t—sweetheart, I really don’t think you should continue working this job.”

“I—mum, I don’t know if I’m in love with Louis. I don’t. I do know that he needs me here as a journalist. He can’t be king I don’t make it through this next month. Lott—Charlotte will have to be queen if he can’t be king and she’s only seventeen and barely in control of her magic. I need to be here for this family, mum. Yesterday—yesterday, Daisy called me her _brother_. I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave. I don’t know if I can. They need me here, mum,” Harry tries to explain, voice hoarse.

He can almost hear his mother frowning when she asks, “What about you, Harry? You’re not okay. You’re far from okay. They might need you but what good will you do them in a state like this?”

“That’s why I need you to call Paul!” Harry insists. “He needs to tell me how to fix this—how to fix myself.”

Anne sighs quietly before murmuring, “H, you do know that you have to leave in a month, don’t you? You can’t play guardian angel forever.”

“Yeah, but that’s in a month! I’ll write an article that will ensure Louis becomes king and I’ll teach the girls everything they need. They’ll be fine,” he reassures but he’s not sure who he’s assuring anymore.

“But will you?”

Harry sits there for a moment, unsure as how to respond. “What does that mean?”

“You think you’re in love with the Prince now? What about in a month? What happens then? And what does that mean for Louis? The journalist that wrote the article about him is in love with him? You know as well as I do that the media will rip him to shreds. Your credibility won’t stand and your article will count for nothing. Darling, I believe you can do this impossible—I’ve _seen_ you do it but I think this one is a little too impossible,” Anne tells him firmly and Harry shuts his eyes, forcing himself to breathe and not to let panic set in again.

“I—I can’t have this conversation right now, mum. Tell Gemma and Niall that I’m fine. I’m sorry.” He waits a moment before adding, “I love you,” and hanging up.

He sits there for a long while, staring blankly ahead and just breathing. He expects someone to come in and tell him to get ready because Harry knows Louis has a meeting today but that isn’t the case.

No one bothers him.

He ends up sending his fourth draft to Leigh, a new determination filling him. Louis will be the king and Harry won’t be the person to stand in the way of that. Also, writing his article helps to distract himself.

After a while, he grabs his journal from his bedside table and a pen.

 _Howling ghosts – they reappear / In mountains that are stacked with fear / But you're a king and I'm a lionheart / And in the sea that's painted black / Creatures lurk below the deck / But you're a king and I'm a lionheart / And as the world comes to an end / I'll be here to hold your hand / 'Cause you're **my** king and I'm **your** lionheart / A lionheart_ (x)

 

**Day 29; Friday, May 30th, 2014.**

 

Harry gets back to his job.

He’s a bit on the quiet side and everyone’s noticed. The girls give him worried glances, Liam and Zayn give him confused glances and Louis just—Louis just gives him sad glances and that’s the worst of it all.

It sucks, actually. Harry is used to being met with Louis’ bright smiles and crinkly eyed smiles. Not furrowed eyebrows and tiny frowns.

Fate isn’t on his side because Paul can’t come for at least another day and Harry keeps finding his hands shaking by themselves and he’s taken to wearing sunglasses around because at one point, he saw his eyes glow gold without him even using magic and now he’s paranoid.

He doesn’t want to be found out. He doesn’t want to ruin this for himself but he’s slightly afraid he’s already gone ahead and done that without even realizing it.

For the first time since he’s gotten to the palace, Harry keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He sits by himself in his room, trying to cool off because all he feels is this raging burn underneath his skin. It stings a little.

Louis stops by to wish him goodnight but Harry is already half asleep so he doesn’t say anything back. The door closes softly and Harry wonders if that’s a metaphor for his life.

 

**Day 30; Saturday, May 31st, 2014.**

 

“So?”

Paul purses his lips, tilting his head before sighing. “You’re fine, H. It’s just—your body isn’t used to you recovering from a breakdown that quickly so you’re still having aftershocks. You’ll be okay in a day or two. I have some medicine for you to take that’ll help though.” He gestures towards his bag.

They’re in Harry’s room right now, speaking in hushed tones. Everyone is pretending to be uninterested in what Paul is doing here but Harry can almost feel their curiosity the same way he feels his magic.

Harry frowns, squinting his eyes. “So I’m okay? I’m not… like, dying or anything? I’ll be fine? You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes, I’m positive,” Paul reassures before giving Harry an assessing look. “Your mum told me what happened, by the way.”

That makes Harry frown just a little, his mouth quirking down. “I’m in a rather tough spot, aren’t I?”

“It’s all a part of your destiny. You’ll figure it out. Just—just don’t freak out again, alright? I don’t know if you can handle another breakdown. Just breathe through it and if it gets really bad, I want you to cut it off. Cut your magic off,” Paul instructs carefully and Harry widens his eyes in surprise.

“But you said to never—“

“I know what I said. Just listen to me and do if it gets really bad. Promise me you will,” Paul pleads and Harry hesitates before nodding. He knows Paul only wants what’s best for him but all the same, Paul specifically told him to never, ever cut his magic off.

It’s near impossible to get back and the one time Paul taught Harry how to do it, they had to take a road trip to somewhere up north—a cave—to get his magic back. It’s also incredibly dangerous and he’s been warned that he can die from it since magic is woven into his being so thoroughly.

They’re silent for a moment before Paul says, “You don’t have to be so scared, Harry. It’ll work out. It’ll all work out. You just need to believe in yourself—you’re the most powerful sorcerer to walk the planet right now. You can fix this. That’s your purpose, you know? This family is your purpose. You used to ask me why you had so much magic… this is why, Harry.”

Harry blinks up at him in surprise. “This? This is my purpose?”

“He’s your purpose,” Paul replies instead, motioning towards Harry’s open laptop. There’s a picture open; it’s the one Louis took of the both of them after they got their ice cream.

It feels like there’s a lump in his throat when he tries to speak but he does finally manage it, croaking, “How can he be my purpose if I’m his demise?”

Paul smiles like he was waiting for that question. “You’re not his demise, Harry. If anything, you’re his rise. The two of you are like two sides of the same coin. One cannot be without the other. ”

Harry falters then, giving Paul a surprised look. “I’ve—I’ve heard that before.”

It’s clear Paul is still holding something back when he gives Harry a _look_ and says, “I bet you have. It’s rather uncommon for people to have two halves of a whole.”

“Two halves of a whole?” Harry repeats blankly and his fingers are trembling just slightly.

“Do me a favor, alright, H? Loosen your hold on your magic. Let it free. Then tell me what you feel,” Paul instructs and Harry gives him a confused look but all the while his entire hand starts to shake. Paul gestures for him to get on with it.

Finally, Harry sighs and closes his eyes. He—he lets go. It’s not the same way that he broke down earlier in the week but it’s completely different. Instead, he feels a burning sensation all the way from his flushed cheeks down to his feet. It expands out of him and he feels like he’s flying, almost even though he’s doing nothing but sitting down and keeping his breaths even.

When he blinks his eyes open to look at Paul, he knows they’re gold.

Paul is smiling at him for what seems to be no reason and Harry remembers that Paul asked him to say how he feels. “I feel… free, I suppose. I feel like I’m on a high—like I’m soaring.”

“Alright,” Paul replies. “Now I want you to think of Louis. Think about all your good memories with him and your favorite traits of his. Just think about _him_.”

Harry wants to narrow his eyes in confusion but he doesn’t want to lose his concentration and let his magic entirely loose so he does as Paul instructs again.

 _Louis_.

When he opens his eyes again, Paul is watching him with the same smile from before. “What?” Harry wonders, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“How do you feel?” Paul asks instead of answering.

Harry pauses a moment to really assess how he feels—the burning is different now. It’s not quite as strong. Instead, it’s a much softer, soothing feeling almost. As if someone is brushing kisses along where his magic ties into his soul. Instead of flying, he feels like he’s grounded. As if he’s anchored.

“I feel golden,” Harry answers, without thinking.

“No one else feels golden, Harry. That’s just you. No one else feels the way you do now and you know why? Because no one else is meant for things like you are, no one else is meant for _Louis_ in specific. The half cannot truly be without that which makes it whole. Do not be afraid. Trust in what you are. Trust in what will be.”

Harry closes his eyes then, feeling his magic leave him almost abruptly. It changes back to the slightly simmering that’s always buzzing underneath this skin. He has to grab onto his bedside table to keep from keeling over as he casts Paul a dubious look.

“What is _wrong_ with me?”

The older man chuckles, patting Harry on the back softly. “Like I said, it’s just side effects. You’ll be fine. But other than that, do you understand what I’m telling you? About you and Louis?”

“No, no, I don’t, actually,” Harry admits. “I’m Harry and he’s Louis and I don’t understand why there’s any more to it, if I’m being rather honest,” he mumbles darkly, sitting back up straight. His fingers are still.

“That’s where you’ve got it wrong. You’re not Harry and he’s not Louis. You’re _Harry and Louis_. The second you accept that is the second everything else falls into place.”

—

Paul leaves later in the day. Harry doesn’t tell anyone about why he was there in the first place. No one asks either. He sees Louis though once and he doesn’t know why, but he automatically grins at him. Louis seems to hesitate a moment before he smiles back blindingly but that’s enough for Harry to know he hasn’t massively fucked up.

It’s enough.

—

It’s nearly midnight when Harry realizes that tomorrow is the first day of June and that he’s not just Harry anymore.

He’s half of Harry and Louis.


	3. Month 2

**Month 2**

**Week 6**

**Day 31; Sunday, June 1st, 2014.**

“I like you.”

Harry starts, head snapping up in surprise. It’s the first day of June and Harry finally feels in control of himself again. He feels _okay_ and it’s been quite a while since he’s felt that way.

He’s with Louis and they’re sitting on the roof once again while Louis reads and signs documents and Harry starts adding his final touches to the article so he can have his complete draft.

However, once those words come out of Louis’ mouth, Harry’s fingers halt on the keyboard and he doesn’t even know what he was doing in the first place.

“What?” Harry says, eyes wide. Louis is still looking at the documents in his hands so it’s possible Harry just imagined all of this which seems like the most likely option.

Louis looks up then though, meeting his eyes and he smiles brightly which Harry returns without a second thought. “I like you, Harry.”

Harry blinks, unsure what he’s supposed to say back. “You like me?” is what he manages.

It seems to be alright though because Louis chuckles and nods, eyes crinkling. “Yes, I like you.”

This time Harry’s mouth falls opens in disbelief. “As in… you _like like_ me?”

Louis snorts, putting the papers in his hands down so he can turn fully towards Harry. “Are we back in primary school? Yes, I _like like_ you, Harry.”

Harry feels like a fish out of water and he’s surprised he’s not quite literally gasping for breath. He doesn’t know what’s even going on and why his blood is burning in a way that’s far _too_ pleasant.

“Why?” he wonders because he’s an idiot and Louis is smiling at him like Harry’s reaction is _cute_ or something stupid like that.

“What do you mean, why? Don’t be daft. Have you met yourself? Harry, you’re so—you’re really fucking amazing, you know? You’re like from another world or something. You glow and you shine and sparkle and all that other Disney princess shit. My sisters love you. They adore you, even. I’ve never seen them take to someone as quickly as you. Hell, you’ve gotten Lottie to stop walking around like someone killed her cat. It’s been—it’s been hard ever since mum died and I don’t think any of us have really been okay. In fact, I don’t know if we’ll ever be okay. But you make it better and I don’t know how or why but you do. You make us happy—you make _me_ happy. There’s just something about you, Harry and I wish I knew what it was but I don’t. All I know is that when I’m around you, I feel lighter on my feet and I feel like I could fly. You make me feel that way. That’s why I like you, Harry Styles. There’s a million more reasons, actually but I don’t want to scare you off too early.”

Harry has never felt so out of his element in his entire life as he does staring back at Louis Tomlinson’s earnest face.

“I…” Harry falters, at a loss of what to say back. He likes Louis. He _knows_ he likes Louis. He knows it’s much more than just ‘like’ at this point but he thinks back to what his mother said—about how he can’t be with Louis no matter how much he wants. Not if he wants Louis to be king.

Louis saves him from speaking though by saying, “You don’t have to say anything back. I know it’s only been a month and you’re leaving in another so I don’t really expect anything from you. I just figured I should tell you now rather than regret it later. I don’t—I just really like you, Harry and you deserve to know that. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable though because that wasn’t my intention—“

Harry cuts him off though, shaking his head. He’s still trying to process what’s going on but the last thing he wants is Louis feeling guilty for telling him the truth about his feelings. “It’s not—it’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable or anything. It’s just that I don’t really know what to say back? I’m sorry.”

He looks down then, unable to meet Louis’ eyes. He doesn’t know how someone like Louis—someone who’s so brave and fearless—can like someone who’s as much of a coward as he is. He doesn’t deserve affection from someone like Louis much less anyone, ever.

“Hey, stop that,” Louis instructs and Harry looks up on instinct, eyes wide. He’s afraid that he’s been saying all of this aloud for a few seconds before Louis continues, “Don’t frown. You look nicer when you smile. And don’t be sorry for not knowing what to say—it’s _okay_. I don’t expect you to say you like me back. You don’t need to say anything at all.”

Harry’s frown grows at that and Louis pouts at him before reaching up to make Harry’s cheek, right where the dimple should be. He’s a bit helpless but to smile at that.

“See, there we go. That’s the Harry Styles everyone knows,” Louis teases, before pressing in on Harry’s dimple lightly. “I have one thing to ask, though. I mean, of course you can always say no but I still want to ask, if that’s alright?”

Harry has to pause a moment to think of what Louis could _possibly_ have to ask him before realizing he has absolutely no idea and just nodding instead. Louis smiles though, so it can’t be all that terrible.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

A light fixture across the roof shatters but Louis doesn’t seem to notice because he’s still giving Harry this hopeful smile that makes Harry’s insides twist with fluttering butterflies and his magic spark with a new intensity.

“A date?” Harry breathes out in surprise and Louis nods, licking his lips a bit uncertainly.

“A double date with Zayn and Liam, actually. We’re going to Thorpe Park… Have you ever been?”

Harry shakes his head slowly, eyes still wide. “I—erm, no. I haven’t.”

“Do you want to go? With me?” Louis asks and his eyes look like they’re shining.

He knows he shouldn’t say yes—he _knows_ but at the same time he doesn’t know if he has it in him to say no to Louis’ smile. That’s why he says, “Only if you hold my hand on the rollercoasters.”

Louis’ smile grows infinitely brighter. “You drive a hard bargain but I think I can manage it.”

Harry feels his own lips start to twist up into a smile as he murmurs, “Okay.”

“So it’s a date?” Louis wonders, tilting his head and in response, Harry nods slowly, feeling his cheeks burn. He hopes they’re not too pink.

“It’s a date.”

 

**Day 32; Monday, June 2nd, 2014.**

 

“Can we—“ Louis starts only to be cut off almost immediately.

“We’ve already ridden it _five_ times,” Zayn snaps but he’s wearing this fond face that Harry knows rather well out of experience.

“Yes, but Liam was in the toilets the last time! So it doesn’t count!” Louis argues just as Harry feels the older man’s fingers intertwine with his own. Harry doesn’t say anything but his smile widens just a little.

“Liam is _still_ in the toilets!” Zayn reminds, throwing his hands up in indignation.

Harry snorts and then covers it up by coughing into his hand when Zayn throws him a betrayed look. “Don’t take his side, Harry. His ego is rather large as it is—we don’t need it getting any bigger.”

“Oi, if we’re going to talk about big egos how about the fact you spent the entire drive here checking yourself out in the rearview mirror?“

“It is not a _crime_ to want to look presentable, Louis! Not that it matters anymore because my hair is just—I would punch you if I didn’t know Liam would yell at me for it.”

“What a bad man! If you’re so tough, why are you the one taking it up the—“

“ _Excuse_ —“

“I’m hungry!” Harry interrupts loudly, hiding his amused smile as well as he can. “Can we get some cotton candy? Let’s go get some cotton candy.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling Louis away from Zayn and towards the cotton candy stand. He glances back to see Zayn smiling after them though and he’s not surprised in the least.

“Are you actually hungry?” Louis wonders, walking at Harry’s side now. There’s half a dozen guards around them but it’s not that bad, considering they get on all the rides almost immediately. “I’d rather we get some actual food into you if you are because cotton candy has a lot of sugar.”

“You’re sweet enough,” Harry murmurs absently, missing the way Louis’ eyes light up. “But actually, I just wanted to get a bottle of water.”

“What the Princess wants, the Princess gets,” Louis agrees without missing a beat and Harry rolls his eyes, nudging the older man with his hip.

“Thanks,” he replies dryly and Louis laughs.

It’s been a nice date. They’ve spent most of the morning wandering around the park, riding various rollercoasters as well as other rides—one where Harry swears he nearly died—and just having fun.

One thing that’s put a damper on the day is that apparently you’re not actually _allowed_ to have your phone out during the rides but Louis convinces the security to not take Harry’s phone so it’s just a minor detail they can gloss over.

Louis has been smiling nonstop all day and it’s infectious because Harry can’t stop smiling either. In fact, it’s a bit worrisome because his cheekbones have started to hurt from his insistent grinning.

The entire thing feels a bit unreal but Harry has decided to stop questioning things and he’s just going with the flow. It’s nice to live in the moment since everything else is uncertain in Harry’s life.

He spends a good portion of the date staring at Louis though. Harry has tried his best not to get poetic but as it is, Louis is kind of like a scene in a movie and Harry hears music when he speaks. Something about Louis makes Harry feel invincible—like he can do anything as long as Louis keeps smiling at him.

“Harry? You there?”

Harry blinks once before looking at Louis who’s staring back with a soft smile. “Yeah, sorry. Just blanked out,” he admits and Louis shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“I asked if you wanted to go on the ferris wheel over there,” Louis answers, pointing to a ride that Harry turns his head to see.

“That’s not a ferris wheel, Lou. I’m pretty sure it’s spinning a bit too fast to be a ferris wheel,” Harry replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh. Well, would you look at that,” Louis murmurs before giving Harry a hopeful look. “Want to go on it anyways?” he tries and Harry smiles, nodding.

“Lead the way,” he says and Louis does just that, pulling Harry along by their intertwined hands.

 

**Day 33; Tuesday, June 3rd, 2014.**

 

Harry nearly falls on his face when during a press conference a reporter stands up and asks, “So, who’s the boy we’ve seen you with recently? Curly hair, lots of tattoos, very tall? Harry something?”

Louis has better composure than him though because he offers the reporter a politely confused smile. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Who is he? Friend, boyfriend…? The public is very curious, Prince Louis,” another reporter speaks up and this time Harry grabs onto the person closest to him which happens to be Zayn.

“Oh... well, I’m seen with various people. I don’t think it’s really that much of a big deal,” Louis answers, still smiling. There’s a moment though where he glances over at Harry and their eyes meet. He looks apologetic and Harry hopes that Zayn’s arm hasn’t lost complete circulation.

“He’s the first boy you’ve been seen with since an official statement was released about your sexuality so forgive us if we’re a bit curious!” a different reporter shouts, near the back of the room.

“Forgiven,” Louis replies and then doesn’t say any more. Harry admires his calm composure.

“Really though. Who is he, your Royal Highness?” asks the first reporter and Harry decides he’s had enough of this before he looks up at the lights above the room with glowing gold eyes.

There’s a few seconds before suddenly every light bulb starts flickering and then goes out. In the complete darkness, everyone starts shouting over one another and then someone announces overhead that the press conference is over. Less than a minute later, Harry feels a hand on his back.

“Sorry,” Louis whispers in his ear and Harry shakes his head almost immediately.

“It’s not your fault,” Harry reassures and then someone starts to user them out. Louis’ hand stays constant on his back though and that’s what Harry uses to guide himself through the mess of people that are running around.

When they’re in the car and Harry’s flipping through photos on his camera, Louis nudges his knee and he looks up curiously. “What?” Harry asks quietly, putting his camera to the side.

“It is a big deal,” Louis says and Harry blinks at him unsure what he’s saying until he clarifies, “This. What we have. It is a big deal to me. I know I said it’s not a big deal but it is—I don’t want to fuck this up, Harry. I care about you a lot and I wasn’t sure if you’d want for me to tell everyone about who you are because privacy is a hard thing to come by when it comes to us Tomlinsons… I want to give you that choice. If you want me to talk about you and us, I will because I’m not ashamed of this. But at the same time, if you don’t want me to say anything I respect that too. I just don’t want you to think that I’m being flippant about this because I’m not—it’s really important to me and you’re really important to me, no matter what I tell the press.”

Harry parts his lips in surprise because the way Louis is staring at him, with this fierce brightness in his eyes—Harry doesn’t _deserve_ that. He doesn’t deserve to have someone as brave and reckless as Louis Tomlinson.

“Why are you…” Harry falters, momentarily speechless before he recovers. “How can you be so brave? Isn’t it scary to be so strong all the time?”

“Yeah, it is scary. But sometimes… you just have to find things to be strong for… things that make you strong,” Louis replies and he’s staring at Harry meaningfully.

“You have that?” Harry asks and he knows the answer he’s going to get but he wants to hear Louis say it anyways.

“Yeah, I do,” Louis answers but then he doesn’t expand. Instead, he smiles softly at Harry and there’s something about that smile that makes Harry want to see nothing but that, every second of every day.

Harry hesitates before smiling back and shaking his head. “I—I don’t think it would be good for you if you spoke about me.”

Well, he doesn’t _think_. He knows. If anyone were to find out that Louis and him were dating—or well, whatever is it they’re doing—he knows it would be bad. It reminds him of what his mother said and that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t matter what’s best for me if you want me to come out about it,” Louis says and his voice is so sincere that Harry almost wishes that it weren’t.

It takes a lot of effort to get the word out of Harry’s mouth but he manages to say, “Positive.”

He’s never been ashamed of who he is. Never once did Harry think _hey maybe I should hide this about myself_ or _maybe I should lie about this because people will think differently of me_. No, he’s always been very proud of who he is and he’s never been afraid to show it but this—this feels cowardly.

Lately, everything he does is cowardly.

What’s even more cowardly is the way that when Louis invites him to his room to watch _Breaking Bad_ on Netflix, his reaction is to just smile and motion for Louis to scoot over on his bed. Eventually, they both end up falling asleep.

The most cowardly thing though is that when he wakes up with Louis plastered on his back at three in the morning, he crawls out of bed and goes back to his own room.

 

**Day 34; Wednesday, June 4th, 2014.**

 

“We don’t have to do this,” Lottie offers timidly, looking unsure.

“No, we do,” Harry replies, shaking his head. “I’m fine. I can still teach you—I _need_ to teach you. I leave in a month and you don’t know nearly enough for… For whatever happens in the future.”

Daisy frowns, patting Harry’s leg. “It’s okay if you don’t want to teach us, Harry. Last week must’ve been really scary.”

Harry smiles, placing his hand over hers. “I’m okay, I promise. I want to teach you. I want you to know what you’re capable of and trust me when I say that you’re capable of so much, Daisy. All of you are.”

From across him, Felicite tilts her head, considering. “You know that you don’t have to do this though, right? We won’t be upset with you. You already do so much for us and what you did to protect us last week was—thank you, Harry. For everything. You don’t have to do any of this but you still do.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” Harry tells them and Felicite gives him one more look before she nods.

“Thank you,” she repeats and Harry feels his lips turn up in a smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replies and then he’s not prepared to be smothered in hugs from all sides but he suddenly is, all four of the Princesses gripping him tightly.

In his ear, he hears Daisy whisper, “We love you, Princess Harry,” and he doesn’t even hesitate to say, “And I love all of you,” right back.

—

It’s clear his mind is a little bit on the enamored side though because when he sees the rose petal path from his doorstep leading to the roof where Louis is waiting for him with a candlelit dinner, he wants to kiss the stupid bright grin right off Louis’ face.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, taking a seat just as Louis shrugs, folding his hands together.

“Well _this_ is chicken stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in parma ham with a side of mashed potatoes,” Louis says, still grinning.

“Made it yourself now, did you?” Harry teases and he hopes his eyes aren’t shining too brightly.

Louis kicks his foot under the table and chuckles quietly. “I did actually. It’s my first cooked meal, in fact.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the meal again. “This—this is your first meal? Ever? You’re lying,” he accuses and Louis shakes his head, grinning again.

“It’s the cold, hard truth, mate. Now take a bite and tell me if it’s shit or not, will you?” Louis gestures towards the meal and Harry can’t help the small smile on his face as he nods.

“Yeah, okay,” He agrees and grabs his fork before giving Louis one more look. “You’re twenty six and this is really the first meal you’ve ever cooked?”

“If you’re just going to make fun of me, then I can just take it and leave—“ Louis starts and Harry pouts, poking the older man’s arm with the fork.

“Don’t be rude,” Harry complains half-heartedly and then yawns before he can help himself. “I have a plan. Let’s eat and then let’s sleep. Does that sound good to you? That sounds good to me.”

Louis stifles what seems to be a laugh before he nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

**Day 35; Thursday, June 5th, 2014.**

 

“Screw this,” Felicite groans, plopping down with a defeated expression. Harry isn’t far from doing the same, admittedly.

“Watch your language,” Louis chides as he comes to a stop in front of them. He smiles then and offers Felicite his hand which she bats away with a frown.

Louis rolls his eyes then and Harry watches him turn back to Phoebe who he arrived with, taking her hand before they start to skate further down the path. Harry meets his eyes once and gets a blinding smile before Louis turns his attention back to Phoebe.

Harry smiles back even though Louis isn’t looking and then he slowly skates over to Felicite, taking extreme precaution not to fall over. When he reaches her, he crouches and whispers, “You do know you can use your magic, right?”

Felicite blinks up at him, confused. “To roller skate?”

Harry nods and glances towards Louis again who has just reached where Lottie and Daisy are skating in circles. “Rather simple actually. _Rǽdan ásce géatan_ ,” he incants and then gets to his feet, feeling a lot surer of his skating capability.

Felicite raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Harry smiles and then skates around her to grab her other hand and pull her to her feet. “Just say the spell,” he suggests, looping his arm through hers.

She sighs but nods, mumbling, “ _Rǽdan ásce géatan_ ,” quietly. Her eyes glow gold for a second before turning back to their normal blue.

Harry tugs her arm then and pulls her back onto the road. She follows hesitantly and when she sees that the spell worked, she grins in surprise. “I thought you were kidding,” she admits as they start down the road to where he can see the rest of the Tomlinsons laughing.

“Well, it isn’t really a spell for skating as much as it is for control. If you can control something, you can do it. So you’re controlling your balance right now,” he explains, shrugging a shoulder.

Harry kind of wishes there were a spell to control his life right now. Sadly, there isn’t so he’ll have to make do with controlling his two left feet and teaching the Princesses to control theirs as well.

“That’s so sick,” Felicite replies and then she pulls her arm back so she can shove Harry in the chest lightly. She laughs loudly as Harry’s eyes widen and he unexpectedly goes flailing towards the ground.

He groans quietly and Felicite laughs again, shouting, “Sorry Princess,” before she skates off.

Harry would flip her off if he were any less of a gentleman. As it is, he just sighs and lies there, closing his eyes. He doesn’t think he has it in him to get up.

There’s a few minutes of him hearing distant laughter before someone blocks the sunlight that was hitting the back of his eyelids not a few seconds before. Harry opens one eye to see who it is and when he sees Louis stifling his laughter into his hand, he simply shuts his eye again without saying a word.

“Do you plan on getting up, Harold?” Louis asks and in response, he just shakes his head.

“Leave me here to die,” Harry mumbles insistently instead and Louis scoffs above him. In a matter of a second, there’s someone lying next to him and Harry asks himself how his life got to this point.

He turns his head towards Louis and blinks his eyes open. He doesn’t expect to see Louis staring back but he is, eyes bright with fondness. “If you’re going down, you’re taking me with you,” Louis says and Harry snorts quietly.

“And what, leave Lottie in charge? You’re funny, your Highness,” Harry teases and Louis’ eyes somehow impossibly get brighter than they already are.

“I suppose we wouldn’t want that,” Louis agrees and when he blinks, Harry swears he feels it against his own cheeks. “I rather enjoy being in charge.”

Harry smirks and reaches out to pinch Louis. He ends up pinching the skin on Louis’ waist, where his shirt is riding up just barely. Louis doesn’t look like he minds all that much. “I’m sure you do,” Harry replies dryly.

Louis is quiet then, just staring at him with wide unblinking eyes and Harry wonders if maybe he’s got something on face. He supposes it’s possible because after all, he has been lying on the ground for the past ten minutes.

“What?” Harry wonders, feeling just slightly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Louis answers. Then he pauses before asking, “Do you know how many flowers there are in this garden?”

Harry makes a face and then shakes his head slowly. “Am I supposed to?”

“No,” Louis assures before he pushes himself up one elbow, resting his head against his hand. “There’s a lot though. Hundreds, at least.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, unsure where Louis is going with his little monologue about flowers before the older man leans over him slightly and says, “Somehow you’re still more beautiful than all of them.”

It isn’t what Harry expected Louis to say at all and it draws a surprised giggle out of him. “Well, aren’t you smooth?” Harry teases half-heartedly and Louis bites his bottom lip, looking like he’s holding back a smile.

“The smoothest,” Louis agrees.

Harry grins delightedly and without meaning to, he reaches up to push Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “You’ve woo’d me,” Harry informs and he wonders if his eyes are shining with mirth back at Louis.

Louis lets out a startled laugh then, covering his mouth. “Woo’d? I’ve woo’d you?” he repeats between snickers and Harry pouts up at him, kneeing him in the thigh lightly.

“I was trying to be _nice_ and this is what I get—“ Harry starts and then suddenly, he’s cut off by lips pressing against his.

He freezes in shock but once he realizes what’s happening, he’s quick to part his lips and kiss Louis back, pushing himself off the ground to meet Louis halfway.

Louis’ mouth is soft but his teeth are sharp where they catch on Harry’s lips and it’s the perfect combination of pleasure and pain, just the way that Harry likes it. One of his hands find their way into the strands of hair at the back of Louis’ neck and he gently cards his fingers through them, pressing closer to the older man.

Someone clears their throat above them and Harry startles back, eyes wide. He drops his hand to his side immediately and Louis sits up, cheeks flushed.

“I _told_ you that I called dibs and now you’re kissing Harry! Louis, that’s not _cool_! You didn’t even ask!” Daisy complains, hands on her hips as she glares at her older brother.

“Sorry,” Louis apologizes but he doesn’t look like he means it all as he glances back at Harry, bright eyed and a small smile on his face.

It’s clear Daisy knows because she yells, “No, you’re not!” in protest, drawing the attention of Phoebe who skates over to them in confusion.

“What happened?” Phoebe asks, looping her arm through Daisy’s before she stares down at the two of them and raises an eyebrow.

“Louis _kissed_ Harry!” Daisy exclaims, looking a lot like an angry kitten as she scowls at Louis. “I called dibs, Phoebe! Remember? I definitely called dibs. I know I called dibs. Harry, why didn’t you tell him that I called dibs?” She turns her scowl on him this time and Harry opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out.

Finally, he meekly offers, “Sharing is caring?”

It becomes rather apparent that isn’t the right answer because Daisy huffs and storms off dramatically, taking an alarmed looking Phoebe with her.

He turns to look at Louis and they stare at each for a split moment before Louis breaks into laughter. Harry follows in suit not even a few seconds later and that’s how Lottie finds them, looking even more perplexed than Phoebe earlier.

“You two are so weird,” she grumbles and then skates off without another word.

It’s only later than it occurs to Harry that when Louis kissed him, he didn’t actually explode into a flurry of gold specks. There is hope for him yet.

 

**Day 36; Friday, June 6th, 2014.**

 

Harry is going to strangle Niall.

He’s also going to strangle Louis, but Niall is most definitely the priority here. God knows why Niall told Louis that Harry loves karaoke and god knows why Louis _remembered_.

“I can’t sing,” Harry insists, shaking his head adamantly while Louis pouts at him, nudging him with his toe underneath the table.

They’re at a karaoke bar straight from an evening meeting where Harry spent the vast majority of the time pulling funny faces at Louis. This, however, is apparently their ‘second date’ as that’s what Louis has been calling it. Harry thinks it’s probably a good thing it’s a bar because he’s going to need more than a few drinks if he’s going get through this night in one piece.

“But Niall said—“ Louis starts to argue and Harry cuts him off almost instantaneously, shaking his head.

“Niall is a _traitor_ and we mustn’t speak of him,” Harry informs in a serious tone and ignores the way Louis rolls his eyes before he reaches across the table and takes one of Harry’s hands in his own.

Harry hopes that his cheeks aren’t flushing as dark a red as they usually do when it comes to Louis but he can’t be too hopeful because Louis is staring at him with twinkling, blue eyes like he knows exactly how flustered he makes Harry.

There are so many things that Harry regrets in life but having Louis Tomlinson stare at him like that isn’t one of them.

“Please sing with me?” Louis requests softly and Harry takes one look at their joint hands on the table and then Louis’ pleading face before he sighs. Resistance is clearly pointless.

“Alright,” Harry relents. “But any Taylor Swift and I’m out.”

“Deal,” Louis agrees easily and then pulls Harry up by their hands before dragging him over to the stage. Harry follows after him without a single clue as to how he became so whipped.

The girl—Emily, according to her nametag—that’s running the karaoke machine looks close to fainting as she recognizes Louis and it occurs to Harry that this is Louis, Prince of Wales, about to sing karaoke with him. He stares in Louis in awe for a few beats of silence and misses Louis choosing the song.

Instead, suddenly Louis is pulling him onto the stage with an infectious grin and Harry prays this doesn’t end up on YouTube.

The music starts then and in the split second it takes Harry to realize what song it is, he decides Louis is possibly his soulmate.

Louis is still grinning and when he opens his mouth, belting out, “ _I got chills, they're multiplying and I'm losing control 'cause the power you're supplying... it's electrifying!_ ” it’s impossible for Harry to not think _you’re the one that I want_.

Harry hesitates just briefly before he sings, “ _You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man and my heart is set on you_!” all while poking Louis pointedly in the chest with what little dramatic flair he can gather. “ _You better shape up, you better understand, to my heart I must be true_.”

The way that Louis’ expression glows in surprise isn’t what he expected, but he rather likes the reaction. That’s how it goes for the rest of performance; Louis grinning at him with shooting stars in his eyes and Harry hopelessly making wishes on him.

When the entire room bursts into applause, Harry hides his face behind his hands to hide how red his face becomes and Louis laughs delightedly, leading Harry off the stage with a hand on his back.

In that moment, Harry knows with absolute certainty that this is _definitely_ going to end up on Youtube.

 

**Day 37; Saturday, June 7th, 2014.**

 

Harry reads it all over one more time before he nods to himself, pleased. His article is done—well, at least the final draft is. There’s a huge editing process ahead of him, but the bulk is finally complete and if that’s not relieving, what is?

He’s proud of himself for not completely losing himself in this job. He’s proud of himself for writing a fully informative article on exactly how wonderful Prince Louis Tomlinson is without a single bias and he’s proud of himself for helping Louis.

If everything goes to plan, this article could be what makes Louis the king.

Maybe Harry does play a part in Louis’ destiny after all—and not in the weird soulmate, destiny, fate way but in the way that he’s going to genuinely change Louis’ life just by writing an article.

The last few days have been hard. In fact, they’ve been more than hard. Ever since his breakdown, something just doesn’t sit well with Harry. There’s always something that feels _wrong_ and he doesn’t know what it is but he wants to rip it out of himself and set it on fire.

Louis has been a distraction, thankfully. His dates have taken Harry’s mind off the fact that despite the way he’s helping Louis, he’s also betraying his entire trust.

He’s keeping the biggest secret that he could ever keep from Louis and he knows how terrible it is of him. At the same time, he can’t tell Louis the truth about himself without telling him the truth about the girls as well and that’s an even bigger breach of trust.

Right now, every time Louis stares at him, his eyes look like they’re shining even brighter than Harry’s do when they’re gold. Harry doesn’t want to know what they look like ice cold and empty because he has a feeling that’s what will happen the second the truth comes out.

It’s alright though because in the meantime, he has an article to email to Leigh and a date to attend. He can deal with the rest when he has to.

 

**Week 7**

**Day 38; Sunday, June 8th, 2014.**

 

He has two options.

Either he could ask Liam or he could ask Zayn.

Zayn will most definitely laugh at him but Liam will ask questions that Harry doesn’t know if he can answer. Both have an equal possibility of telling Louis.

Then again, Harry is leaning a bit more towards Zayn because he looks like he has a lot more experience in the area than Liam does.

Finally, Harry sighs and knocks on Zayn’s door twice hesitantly. He only has to wait with bated breath for half a minute before Zayn opens the door with a can of spray paint in his hand.

He gives Harry a confused look before motioning for him to get inside. Harry brushes past him into the room, blinking his eyes at the fumes and then glancing around at the art.

It’s impressive—really impressive actually and Harry tells Zayn as much.

His response is to grin widely and then pull off his respirator so he can speak. “What brings you around, mate?” Zayn asks, setting the can in his hand down on to the ground.

Harry smiles sheepishly before admitting, “I have a favor to ask…”

—

“Can I at least see it?” Zayn wonders, turning to look at Harry curiously, eyebrow raised.

Harry shakes his head, ducking his head to hide his small smile. “Sorry Zayn, it’s a bit of a secret.”

They’re on their way back to the palace and Zayn is in the driver’s seat of his own car. It most definitely explains how Liam and Zayn get to places.

“Alright, alright,” Zayn says amiably but then he gives Harry one more pleading look as they reach a stop sign. “Are you absolutely sure I can’t see it? I won’t take the piss out of you, I swear.”

Harry gives him skeptical look and shakes his head again. “First of all, you’re a liar because I know you will most definitely take the piss out of me and second, you’ll see it when the time is right. Don’t worry about it."

Zayn sighs exaggeratedly and nods his head. “Fine but if Liam sees before I do, I’m going to be cross,” he warns and then he turns on the radio.

“He won’t, I pro—hey, I love this song!” Harry exclaims and reaches for the volume, making it louder.

“The 1975? Some sort of indie band of yours?” Zayn wonders and his voice is a teasing lilt that Harry feels a bit proud to be on receiving end of.

“Don’t be rude, Zayn. They’re really sick! I love their new album. The lead singer, Matt Healy? He’s the coolest bloke ever. I was going to go to their concert for one of my articles this month actually. It was next week I think? But I’m obviously not working for _White Eskimo_ anymore so, I guess I won’t be seeing them after all,” Harry concludes, shrugging.

Zayn nods along and then he casts Harry a curious look. “Is the concert you were supposed to attend in London?”

“Yeah, it is actually,” Harry answers and then his phone buzzes in his lap. He picks it up just as Zayn turns back to the road with a thoughtful expression.

By the time he finishes replying to Niall’s text about something Barbara did, Zayn reaches the gates of Kensington Palace. Harry watches as he simply nods to a guard who opens the door for them with a nod back and a smile.

It’s one of the first smiles that Harry has seen one of the guards do.

The smile puts him in a good mood and a few minutes later when he’s walking to his room, he sees Louis sitting in the hallway with a book in his lap which puts him in an even better mood.

“What are you reading?” Harry asks, plopping down next him.

Louis startles in surprise and Harry notices that he has earphones in right as he pulls them out quickly.

“It’s—um,” Louis begins to say but then cuts himself off. “Where have you been all day?” he asks instead, closing the book and turning to face Harry who wraps his arms around his knees before he turns to stare back.

Harry sees the word poetry on the cover in the brief moment he has before Louis shoves the back behind his back and Harry has to cover up his smile by hiding half his face behind his knee.

“I was out with Zayn. I needed to get some things done. It’s my day off though, so it’s not a problem, is it?” Harry checks, blinking up at Louis who opens his mouth to speak but then closes it almost abruptly.

Louis shakes his head but he looks a little unsure. “No, it’s not a problem—it’s just that… I missed you.”

This time Harry doesn’t even try to hide his smile and he mumbles, “I missed you too,” before bumping his shoulder with Louis’. “Do you want to see what I did today?”

The older man nods, looking curious and Harry thinks about what he’s doing for a second—thinks about the weight of it and how it’s going to affect his relationship with Louis but in the end, his excitement to show Louis wins out.

He reaches up and rolls up his left sleeve so Louis can see that the upper part of his arm is bandaged up. It takes a moment for it to register but Harry sees the exact second Louis realizes what it is because his eyes light up in wonder.

“Is it a tattoo? What of?” Louis asks, reaching out to touch it but then pulling his hand back before he can. Harry shakes his head and gestures for Louis to go ahead.

Louis looks skeptical for a second before he finally reaches out and gently begins to peel the bandage off, revealing the reddened skin and dark words in cursive.

Harry waits for Louis to read it and he does, out loud perhaps for Harry’s benefit, perhaps for his own. “Does this— _Can I stay_?” Louis reads and Harry thinks he sounds slightly in awe.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, raising his eyes to meet Louis’.

“Are you asking me if you can stay, Harry?” Louis wonders, biting his lip with an expression that’s the mixture of amazement and hesitancy.

And yes, that’s exactly what Harry’s asking. He’s asking if he can stay—if Louis will take him in and never let him leave because that’s all he wants but he has absolutely no right to want it.

He leaves in three weeks and he knows those three weeks aren’t enough. He knows that once this is all over, he has to go back to his normal life and do normal things because this isn’t his life—this is Louis’ life and everyone including him knows he has no part in it, no matter what Simon or Paul or anyone says.

Harry is just Harry and Louis is Louis, Prince of Wales, soon to be King of the United Kingdom.

“I don’t know what I’m asking you,” Harry lies, shrugging. “I don’t have any clue at all and that scares me a bit, yeah. What I do know is that I don’t want to leave here with _what if_ s. I don’t want that. I—I want this. I want us.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a while, just staring at Harry’s face like he’s searching for something. Harry wonders what he sees.

“We have three weeks,” Louis finally says, quietly like he’s afraid. Harry wishes he weren’t. He also wishes he wasn’t just as afraid if not more.

“Better make the best of them then,” Harry jokes but it falls short and with nothing better to say he just reaches forward and presses a soft kiss to Louis’ cheek before getting to his feet. “Goodnight Louis.”

It’s only once he’s halfway through the doorway of his room that he hears, “Goodnight Harry.”

 

**Day 39; Monday, June 9th, 2014.**

 

Harry wakes up feeling like he’s on fire.

Immediately, he throws his covers off and reaches for a candle, lighting it aflame. It’s dark—the sun hasn’t risen yet and Harry doesn’t know if he can go back to sleep.

He sits up, leaning his back against the headboard of the bed and he concentrates on breathing steadily. He’s not sure what his dream was about or why it woke him up so suddenly but he does remember a voice—a man’s voice.

The voice is fading quickly, slipping from him much like a dream but one thing stays behind. The last words he heard the man say before he woke up— “Kill him. Set him on fire.”

Harry shivers in surprise and he can see goosebumps covering his arms. He feels both too hot and too cold all at once and he doesn’t like it one bit.

He sits there for a long time, staring blankly at a spot on the opposite wall until the sun comes up and the birds start to sing.

It’s only when Liam knocks on his door, shouting, “Rise and shine, Harry!” before moving to Louis’ room across the hall, that Harry realizes that he can’t just sit in bed all day.

He rolls out of bed with a pathetic thud and reaches for the closest piece of clothing that he sees which happens to be a scarf that Louis bought for him.

He stops halfway though and stares at his arm in horror. There’s a large burn across his forearm and when he brushes his fingers against it, it hurts so much that he hisses in pain.

That isn’t supposed to be there—he knows for a _fact_ that it wasn’t there last night but it’s there now and Harry knows it has something to do with his dream.

Harry takes a deep breath and whispers a healing spell quietly. He waits for the burn to go away but when nothing happens, he’s even more anxious.

He swallows back his worry and instead he reaches for a long sleeved button up shirt and pulls it on before he undoes the buttons at the elbows so the sleeves will reach his wrist. He can’t help but wince when the cloth rubs against his burn the wrong way and he resolves to call Paul later.

In the meantime, he pulls on a pair of dark jeans with holes in the knees and a brightly colored red scarf to match his shirt. Once he deems himself presentable, he goes downstairs and everyone except for Louis is already there eating pancakes.

“Good morning girls,” Harry greets before taking a seat next to Phoebe who passes the platter of pancakes. On his other side there’s an empty seat which Harry knows is reserved for Louis.

“Morning, Harry,” they all mumble in unison and Felicite offers him a small smile as she slides the syrup over the table allowing him easier access to it.

“Have a nice night?” Harry wonders absentmindedly as he reaches for the fruit bowl and he sees Lottie bite her lip and shake her head in his peripheral vision.

“I had a dream,” Lottie informs when he turns to look at her and Harry’s fork stops halfway to his plate. He gives her a concerned look because she looks scared—she reminds him of himself, not even five years ago. He hates the expression on her face as much as he hated it on his own.

“A dream?” Harry repeats slowly. “As in a _dream_?”

Lottie nods, looking more serious now and next to her, Felicite squeezes her hand reassuringly. “It was—you were in it. So was Louis. You—your eyes were glowing gold and he… he told you to leave.”

Harry’s fork clatters to the table in surprise.

It’s one thing to know that Louis won’t want anything to do with him once the truth comes out but it’s an entirely other thing to know that Lottie, a _seer_ , saw it in her dreams.

Paul says that no matter what a seer sees, it always comes true. Even if circumstances don’t seem to match up and aren’t what they seem, they’ll still come true.

“Oh,” Harry responds for lack of anything better and that’s when Louis walks in, whistling cheerfully as he takes the seat at the head of the table, right next to Harry.

“Good morning everyone,” Louis says cheerfully just as Harry feels a thumb press into his thigh lightly.

Everyone mutters a hello and then returns to eating or in Harry’s case staring blankly at their food. He feels a bit nauseous and having Louis touch him is doing little to help.

Louis’ delighted expression hasn’t faltered and Harry gets to see the way his face falls when he finally sees the solemn looks on all of their faces. “Did somebody die?” Louis jokes and then Lottie suddenly bursts into tears.

They all jolt in surprise and Felicite is out of her seat in seconds, pulling Lottie to her feet. “Not here, you don’t. Not like this,” Felicite hisses and then drags Lottie with her to the door where they both disappear.

Louis looks after them alarmed before he turns to Harry with a baffled expression. “Was it something I said?”

Harry shakes his head, patting Louis’ hand which is splayed on his thigh. He swallows his horror down and says, “I’m sure it’s just a teenage girl thing,” with a forced smile.

It doesn’t look like Louis is convinced because he’s frowning but eventually he sighs and nods. “Probably,” Louis agrees.

Beside him, Phoebe taps insistently at his other thigh and Harry turns to her confused. She beckons for him to get closer, so he does and she cups her hand around his ear before whispering, “Daisy had a dream about you too but she won’t tell me what happened in it.”

Harry turns to give her an incredulous look before leaning forward to give Daisy the same look only to see she’s gone. He sighs quietly before leaning down to whisper to Phoebe himself. “Keep trying. I’ll check in on you after dinner and if she hasn’t told you by then, I’ll see what I can do,” he murmurs and then pulls back just as Phoebe nods and dashes off.

“Care to explain?” Louis wonders, eyebrow raised and Harry turns to him with a guilty expression.

“It’s a secret?” Harry tries and realizes he couldn’t have worded it worse.

Louis doesn’t look too bothered though because he merely shrugs and reaches over to poke Harry in the shoulder. “I’ll find out soon enough,” he says, grinning brightly and then he reaches for the platter of pancakes.

Harry ignores the sick feeling in his stomach as he smiles back and passes Louis the syrup.

—

They sit on the roof and read poetry to each other that evening.

Dumb poems that they make up on the spot and thoughtful poems they find by flipping through books. Louis seems to prefer haikus so Harry takes the extra effort to flip through the book full of haikus and read him those instead.

“How about ‘ _We are thunderstorms, white hot lightning and thunder, that can shake the walls’_?” Harry wonders, crossing his ankles and Louis hums before shaking his head.

“No, I don’t really like it… but it’s alright,” Louis relents before flipping to a random page in the book in his own lap. “Do you like this one? ‘ _I want rainfall and I want your hair soaked in it. I want green grass and light pouring in through tree branches and slow steady steps towards me. I want the sound of nothing when it’s shared with you, I want to gasp as nothing always becomes something when your hand is in my hand and the night unfolds. I want movies that play as we don’t bother watching them and I want kisses in the back of the theater when we forget people can see. I want popcorn spills and candy hands and the stillness we swear lives around us. I want the noise rustling grocery bags make when you try to squeeze them to all be carried in one trip and I want the fullness of pantry shelves and I want the standing with hands on hips and long stares into them to unearth the secret of what dinner will consist of. I want the slow motion fall of hair that was cut and I want the chuckling laughter when you cut a spot too short. I want to watch the broom sweep back and forth and forth and back and I want to hold the dustpan to catch the cast aside pieces of me you no longer thought I needed. I want your feet in my hands and my thumbs sore from pressing out the hours you spent on them. I want laughter that comes on so suddenly that everyone around us thinks our tears are of sorrow and our breath abandoned us like we were sinking ships and the sea was filled with lifeboats. I want to be the mirror that watches you disapprove of yourself and I want to be the voice that comes in at the perfect moment to say how beautiful the exact spot you didn’t know I knew you were staring at is._ ’?”

Harry blinks at Louis twice, letting the words sink in before he nods slowly. “Yeah,” He murmurs. “I do.”

Louis smiles brightly before he goes back to flipping through the pages aimlessly.

Harry returns to his own book and he frowns at the little dog ears in the corners of some of the pages. When he comes across one that catches his eye, he stops on the page and clears his throat. In response, Louis looks up curiously and Harry reads, “ _Will you rise with me, through the darkness and sorrow, can we start fresh now?_ ”

“I _really_ like that one,” Louis exclaims before he gestures towards his own book. “ _What does it say, when all the songs, all the birds sing, sound like all the songs, I’ve ever heard you hum_?”

“Says that you need to get your hearing checked, love,” Harry replies before giggling. “I like it though. Reminds me of my swallows.”

“Oh, yes, your boobie birdies,” Louis teases, reaching out to poke Harry in the chest before turning back to his book. “ _Peel me apart, one layer at a time, warrantless searches through locked rooms, the flashlight beams seen from dark streets, dancing in the windows shut tight. Toss this house, break vases with flair; flipped tables and splinters of a chair; you will never find a scrap of evidence, of anyone but you._ ”

“That one’s really pretty,” Harry says and he wonders if his heart is still beating right in his chest. If maybe it’s skipping beats because of the way Louis looks up at him while he reads poetry. He clears his throat then before saying, “ _You are the habit, that I will spend my lifetime, trying not to break_.”

Louis tilts his head and the expression on his face is a look that Harry can’t even begin to understand. Louis doesn’t comment on the poem though and instead, he looks down and reads out in a clear voice, “ _My tongue is raw, from biting too hard, when things, are too much. I swallow the taste of all, that I have ever endured_.”

The air feels charged now for some reason Harry can’t explain. He wishes he know why but there’s something _here_ , something about right now that fills his veins with flames. “ _You are all the fight, and flame driven desire, that’s left inside me_.”

“ _I kiss you, and, on your lips, I taste the sea, and the sea, has always been, home to me_ ,” is what Louis reads back and there’s a fire in his eyes that can Harry can read, that he can understand.

Harry has to bite back the stupid smile that’s threatening to take over his face as he says, “ _You are more than words, and the letters that make them, you are poetry_.”

He expects it when Louis closes the distance between them and meets Harry’s mouth with his own. The fire in his eyes burns and tells him just beforehand.

 _Just give me your love / and I will show you a life / you’d never believe_.

 

**Day 40; Tuesday, June 10th, 2014.**

 

“You’re terrible at this,” Harry says, giggling as Louis flips him off and falls onto the grass dramatically.

“Golf shouldn’t even be considered a sport,” Louis snaps but it comes out more as a groan. “All you do is hit a ball with a stick. What kind of sport even is that?”

“That’s why you’re so bad at it?” Harry wonders and the scowl Louis gives him is completely worth it.

“See if I take you out on a date again,” Louis grumbles, rolling over so he’s face first into the grass.

Harry giggles again before crouching so he’s casting a shadow over Louis. He lets go of his golf club so he reach out to trace letters against Louis’ back.

“Hi to you too, goofball,” Louis mutters before placing his head on his arms and turning to face Harry. “You’re silly.”

That makes Harry grin and he writes out _T-H-A-N-K-S_.

Louis snorts. “You’re welcome,” he replies before closing his eyes. “Can I just lie here and take a nap while you play? I’m honestly just here to stare at your arse in those pants.”

Laughing, Harry finally takes a seat on the grass and Louis takes the opportunity to shuffle over until he can rest his head against Harry’s thigh.

“Can’t see my arse now,” Harry reminds before picking random pieces of grass out of Louis’ hair. “I think we can both agree I’m the real winner today.”

Louis scoffs which is followed by Harry feeling teeth sinking lightly into his thigh. He jolts in surprise and he can feel Louis’ smile through his pants.

“Where are your manners?” Harry asks in a scandalized tone but he’s smiling now too, still picking out pieces of grass. There’s something about this—just sitting here on the grass and talking about nothing important—that makes Harry want to never leave. To live in this moment forever.

In the back of his mind he thinks, _if I lay here / if I just lay here / would you lie with me / and just forget the world_?

“Left them behind with my shame,” Louis responds easily, turning his head so he can wink at Harry who giggles again, shoving Louis halfheartedly.

“Behave yourself,” Harry says but he doesn’t really mean it. He likes this Louis—this playfully enigma that glows in the afternoon sun.

“This coming from the one with a knack for voyeurism,” Louis croons and Harry flushes red immediately, glancing around to make sure none of the guards are close. That’s when he notices that no one is nearby and that they’re practically alone.

“You’re the one who’s an exhibitionist,” Harry complains, still quiet despite the lack of company, before he pouts slightly and when Louis reaches up to poke his cheek, he snaps his teeth at his finger instead.

“Is that how it’s going to be then? Alright, Harold,” Louis sniffs before haughtily turning away and Harry bites his tongue to keep from something stupid like _I want to live in this moment with you._

It’s just— _why does Louis look at him like he’s something special—something worth it_?

“’M sorry,” Harry apologizes and he hears Louis sighs dramatically into his thigh but he takes it as forgiveness because seconds later, he gets bitten again.

He sort of hopes Louis will leave marks. It would be really nice if he did, actually. Harry really likes marks—in fact, he more than likes them. He loves them. He loves being able to press down on a bruise and remember exactly who gave him it and for what reason. It’s an easier solution to grounding himself—just pressing on the bruise instead of pinching his skin.

“I’m sure you are,” Louis replies, drawing Harry out of his daydream and then settles his head more comfortably against Harry’s thigh. “You took too much time to choose whether or not you wanted to play golf. I’m just going to nap on you instead.”

Harry sighs and accepts his fate.

_I don't care what people say when we're together. / You know I wanna be the one to hold you when you sleep. / I just want it to be you and I forever._

 

**Day 41; Wednesday, June 11th, 2014.**

 

Harry is texting Niall when someone sits down next to him—or well, bodily splays themselves over the remaining part of the couch.

He doesn’t have to look up to know that it’s Louis. Instead, he lifts his arms so Louis can rest his legs in Harry’s lap before he lowers his arms again, resting them gently on Louis’ shins.

“What are you doing?” Louis wonders as he flicks on the television and then he wiggles his toes against the inside of Harry’s thighs playfully.

Harry doesn’t mean to let out a giggle but he does, completely unintentionally.

Louis immediately perks up and Harry regrets the day he set foot into the palace. “Are you—Harold, are you ticklish?”

“No,” Harry lies vehemently and winces at how abnormally high his voice gets.

“You are!” Louis accuses, sitting up fully and pulling his legs from Harry’s lap. “There was that one time when I tickled you in the limo and—wait a second, does it turn you _on_?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, too mortified to even think coherently and the wicked gleam in Louis’ eyes does little to help. He instead decides to stare resolutely as his phone.

It would seem that isn’t the best course of action because Louis grabs the phone right out of his hands and hides it behind his back.

“Answer me,” Louis demands, grinning mischievously and Harry hates that he finds it endearing.

He pouts and holds his hand out. “Lou _is_ ,” Harry whines quietly and Louis shakes his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.

“Tell me or get it yourself,” Louis challenges and smirks in this way that makes Harry want simultaneously kiss him and punch him at the same time.

Maybe he’ll punch him in the mouth. With his mouth. Softly.

Harry’s pout deepens before he grumbles, “Fine,” and then lunges across the couch, attempting to get his phone from behind his back only for Louis to start laughing.

When Louis rolls right off the couch and then gets to his feet, triumphantly holding the phone above his head, it takes all Harry has to not tackle him.

Harry stands up then, unable to help the grin on his face once Louis remembers their height difference and his eyes widen in surprise. “ _No_!” Louis shouts dramatically before proceeding to shove the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants and make a run for it.

After a moment of internally debating on whether he really wants to the chase after the Prince of Wales in his pajamas, he decides he’s not going to stoop _that_ low.

That lasts for all of two seconds before he runs out of the room as well, glancing from side to side to see if he can spot the older man. When he sees no one, he frowns and starts to wander the halls, checking random rooms for sight of Louis.

He probably should’ve been checking behind him too because when he’s in the living room, someone tackles him and he goes down flailing. His face is smushed against the carpet and for a second, he can’t breathe but then Louis rolls off of him.

“What is _wrong_ with you—” Harry starts to protest when he turns over onto his back but he’s cut off but Louis’ mouth against his and that effectively ends any and all objection Harry might’ve had.

Louis climbs onto him then, straddling his hips and Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

He isn’t complaining though when Louis leans down and kisses him again, his eyes both dark and bright at the same time.

Instead, he kisses back, sucking Louis’ lower lip into his mouth and biting down gently. The way that Louis rolls his hips against Harry’s tells him that he’s doing something right.

He whines quietly and snaps his hips without meaning to but Louis doesn’t seem like he minds if the way he gasps into Harry’s mouth is any indication.

Louis pulls away then, instead pressing his lips along Harry’s jaw. In between kisses, he mutters, “Want you _so bad_. Want you all the fucking time.”

Harry groans quietly as Louis begins to suck a love bite onto his collarbones and his hands come down to rests on Louis’ hipbones, possibly pressing bruises into them.

The sweatpants that Louis’ wearing are thin—nearly as thin as Harry’s flimsy pajama bottoms—and Harry can feel Louis’ cock pressing into his thigh and he can’t even think because his entire mind feels like it’s bursting into bright gold fireworks.

Above him, Louis looks golden too. He looks like he’s glowing and Harry doesn’t know if he’s in some comatose state but he doesn’t _care_ because Louis is rolling his hips steadily against Harry’s now and Harry is finding it difficult to breathe.

When Louis’ kisses him, his tongue snakes into Harry’s mouth and the kiss is wet and messy but Harry feels like there’s never been a kiss better than this one, Louis’ fingers sliding into his hair and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck.

“C’mon love, budge up,” Louis mumbles and Harry obliges easily, scooting up and he winces just slightly at the rug burn he knows the back of his elbows will have soon.

Louis lines them up so Harry can feel his cock against his own and then he begins to grind down slowly, teasing Harry.

Harry keens and rolls his own hips up desperately but Louis fixes him with a look that makes him reconsider his actions. Eventually, he leaves it up to Louis to decide what to do and that seems to please the older man so fuck everything else, in all honesty.

Well, Harry wishes Louis were fucking him but that’s a different story.

When Louis pushes himself and more firmly starts to roll his hips against Harry’s, he can almost feel his eyes roll to the back of his head as he whines quietly again.

He feels Louis’ smirk against his neck followed by the sharp pain of teeth biting down and then a tongue soothing the mark over. “You look so pretty with marks, babe,” Louis grunts and this time, it’s Louis that’s pressing bruises into Harry’s hipbones. “Wanna mark you up everywhere. Wanna show everyone how good you are for me,” he mumbles and Harry nods eagerly because he wants that too, he wants it so much.

“Kiss me, please,” Harry requests after he can get his mouth to form the words and Louis’ answering smile is stunning.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Louis replies and then fits his lips between Harry’s.

His mouth is as soft as ever but his teeth are sharp when they bite down on Harry’s bottom lip making Harry gasp quietly into his mouth. Louis has to pull away because he’s smiling and after a second, Harry smiles back.

Then Louis grinds down firmly and all coherent thoughts fly right out the window.

“So responsive,” he hears Louis murmur and Harry jolts in surprise when he feels Louis’ fingers pulling lightly on the waistband on his pajama pants. “I want to hear you make these pretty noises all the time.”

Harry can do nothing but nod before gasping out, “Want to make them for you,” and Louis’ eyes shine brighter than all the stars in the sky.

Louis snaps the elastic of his waistband then and Harry exhales sharply, his elbows giving out making him fall back onto the ground with a soft thud.

It changes the angle though and Louis has to move a bit to get back into the right position. It’s a slightly different angle though and after one sharp roll of Louis’ hips, Harry is coming right there, in his pants.

He doesn’t know much of what happens after that but seconds later, Louis collapses onto his chest and just lies there. Harry catches a whisper of, “You’re so good, Haz, yeah? So good for me,” accompanied by a soft kiss to his jaw.

When his head finally feels a bit clearer, he smiles at Louis and he probably looks a little crazy but Louis smiles back and reaches down towards his sweatpants.

Harry’s confused for a second but then he sees Louis take out the phone he stole from Harry—what caused this in the first place. “Here you go,” Louis says before tucking the phone into Harry’s pocket carefully.

“Thank you,” Harry replies hoarsely and instead of saying ‘you’re welcome’, Louis just kisses him again and strangely enough (or not strangely at all), Harry is very okay with that.

 

**Day 42; Thursday, June 12th, 2014.**

 

Harry wakes up with bruises on his wrist this time, right across his sparrow tattoo and his _I CAN’T CHANGE_ tattoo. Every morning for the last few days, he’s woken up with a different set of marks.

He stares at the red marks in disbelief and he doesn’t even bother with a healing spell this time because he _knows_ it won’t work.

They’re rope burns and when Harry touches them, it hurts so much that he has to grip the dresser in his room to keep from falling over. There’s black spots in his vision and he feels overwhelmingly dizzy for a few seconds before he slides down to the floor slowly and rests his head between his knees.

 _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale_.

When he feels okay to breathe again, he hears a loud noise and looks up in time to see a vase full of flowers Louis gave him explode.

He flinches back in surprise, hitting his head against the dresser and even though none of the pieces come close to him, he feels like he’s being attacked.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with me?” Harry grumbles to himself, rubbing his eyes and ignores the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He reaches for his phone, hand fumbling around until his fingers close around it and he grabs it.

For a second, his face breaks into a smile remembering the previous night but then he sees a text from Simon of all people and the smile immediately turns into a frown.

The text says _Remember that no matter what happens, their safety is the most important thing and you’re responsible for them_.

It does little to help his already bad mood so he deletes the text without replying and then texts Paul, telling him about the situation to which he gets a reply telling him to avoid sleeping until Paul can figure something out.

That makes Harry want to cry just a little but instead, he takes a deep breath and stands up.

Someone chooses to knock on his door that exact second and Harry doesn’t have time to clean up the vase using a spell before the person walks in. Thankfully, it’s Zayn and not Louis but then at the same time, it’s Zayn who will _tell_ Louis.

“Hey, Harry, we have a few meetings to go to today and then Louis bought tickets to watch a theatre production for two so if you’re interested…” Zayn smiles then and Harry would appreciate it more if he weren’t panicking just slightly.

“Sounds lovely,” Harry manages, offering Zayn a tight lipped smile all while praying _please don’t look to your right please don’t look to your right please don’t look to your right_.

“Great! I’ll just let him know then,” Zayn says, making a move to leave before he stops and glances back. Harry holds his breath and behind his back, his fingers are crossed. “You okay, bro?”

“Just peachy,” Harry replies and this time forces a huge grin onto his face.

Zayn nods, looking a bit perplexed before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

The first thing Harry does is use his magic to lock the door before he walks towards the vase. He stares at it for a moment before talking another calming breath. “Okay, I can do this. I can do this. Yeah, alright. I just need to— _álíese_.”

It’s a relief to watch the vase fix itself and he takes extra care to put the flowers back. Then after cleaning up the water on the carpet, he refills the vase and then he hesitates for a moment, wondering if maybe Zayn _did_ see it and chose not to comment.

If he did, then having the vase magically fix itself would be more than a little weird and Harry is already a labeled as the quirky one.

Eventually, he just decides he’ll deal with it when he has to. It’s a philosophy he’s taken to repeating like a mantra in his head as of recently. It’s probably a bad practice.

He’s pretty bad at confrontation though so he just pushes it to the back of his mind and smiles brightly at Louis when he slides into the limo where Harry is already sitting, ready for the meetings ahead of them.

Louis smiles back and opens his mouth to say something before his eyes flicker to Harry’s wrists and he stops completely.

Harry makes an aborted movement to pull down his sleeves but he knows Louis has already seen the burn marks and there’s nothing he can do so he immediately blurts, “I don’t want to talk about it,” before the older man can say anything.

Louis looks up at him with wide eyes, lips parted in surprise and for a second, Harry is afraid. He’s afraid that he’s messed something up without meaning to and it shouldn’t terrify him this much but it does.

“I—Harry, you don’t—are you like—” Louis stammers, looking completely distraught just as Harry bites his bottom lip and looks down, avoiding eye contact. “You—you don’t—Jesus, Harry, are you alright? Is this—you’re not hurting yourself, are you? I—Harry?”

That startles a response out of Harry and he shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not. I don’t. I wouldn’t. This is just—I can’t explain what it is but just please trust me when I say I’m fine, okay?”

Louis doesn’t look convinced, expression still alarmed. “You’re not lying to me, right? You wouldn’t lie to me?” he checks and Harry wants to cry again for the second time that day.

Instead, he shakes his head again and swallows past the lump in his throat as he says, “I wouldn’t lie to you. I swear, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”

He hates the look on Louis’ face as he nods slowly and what he hates even more is the fact that when Louis takes Harry’s hands and presses a soft kiss against each of his wrists, instead of the burning he’s become accustomed to, it feels cool against his skin.

In his head, he can almost hear Simon saying, _You can’t run from your destiny, young warlock. It will always catch up to you, no matter how fast or far you run._

During the last meeting of the day, Harry rubs absently a patch on his jeans where he dropped coffee with his hand and it takes him two seconds too long to realize that where his wrist rubbed against his jeans, it should’ve burned.

He looks down at his wrists to find them both lacking the marks from a few hours ago and gasps in shock, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Immediately, he apologizes and they all go back to their meeting but not before he meets Louis’ eyes and sees the confused look on his face.

Harry wishes he could explain everything to Louis but he can’t even figure it out himself, so he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to make the Prince of Wales understand.

Later, when they’re watching a theatre production of _1984_ , Louis takes his hand and holds it. He feels Louis’ thumb brush against his wrist, pressing into the sparrow tattoo and then he also feels the way that the older man freezes and casts him a perplexed look but Harry keeps his eyes on the actors on the stage.

After a while, Louis looks away but then he squeezes Harry’s hand and Harry figures if he can’t give Louis an answer, he can at least squeeze back so he does.

When they get back to the palace, Harry locks himself in his room and skypes Niall.

Eventually, Harry ends up telling Niall everything but then instead of letting him sulk, Niall cheers him up.

It’s rather apparent why Niall is his best friend because the second Harry finishes talking, he frowns only for half a second before breaking into amusing stories about him and Barbara and then stories about how he was at the pub when he ran into his great, twice removed, uncle on his father’s side and just everything and anything that he knows will put a smile on Harry’s face.

Not surprisingly, it manages to lift Harry’s spirits.

That’s what Niall’s best at, in Harry’s opinion. He can always put a smile on someone’s face, no matter what and it’s moments like these that Harry is glad that it’s Niall that’s his best friend and not anyone else.

 

**Day 43; Friday, June 13th, 2014.**

 

Harry absentmindedly wonders if Louis’ moods correlate with his own.

It seems now that Harry is in a good mood despite the fact that he hasn’t slept all night, so is Louis because he randomly announces that they should all go on a picnic during breakfast and everyone else just nods.

Beneath the table, Louis presses his thumb into Harry’s thigh and Harry thinks that might be a thing for them now.

He spends most of his morning in the kitchen, persuading Cher to let him bake red velvet cupcakes and eventually she relents so he ends up making an extra batch just for her. The real reason he made it is because he knows that it’s Louis’ favorite but he has a feeling Cher knows too if the way she smiles is any indication.

By the time they actually have the picnic, it’s five in the evening and the girls have decided to ignore Harry and Louis in favor of flying kites.

Harry thinks he might join them soon but then again, he likes having Louis throw grapes at his mouth a lot better even though he misses nine out of ten times. It’s alright because it makes Louis laugh and Harry likes when Louis laughs.

“Alright, alright. You have to get this one, Harold or _else_ ,” Louis says, grinning brightly, holding a grape in between his fingers. He waits a moment though and the ends up popping it in his own mouth while Harry watches silently, intrigued.

When Louis grabs another grape though and gets ready to toss it, Harry asks, “Or else _what_?” and eyes the older man suspiciously.

Louis falters then, expression thoughtful before he snaps his fingers and points at Harry. “Or I’m never kissing you again,” he exclaims, looking proud of himself and Harry rolls his eyes fondly.

“You’re pretty awful at threats,” Harry remarks but his voice is just on the right side of playful. “Who says I want to kiss you anyways?”

Louis pouts and his foot reaches out to kick Harry’s leg. “Oi, I will have you know I’m a wonderful kisser and anyone would be lucky to kiss me,” he replies indignantly, turning up his nose.

In his head, Harry agrees but he out loud he mutters, “Whatever you say,” while shrugging and Louis gasps in mock outrage.

“How dare you! How _dare_ you!” Louis shouts and Harry stifles a giggle by biting his bottom lip.

“Well I simply—“ Harry starts only to be cut off almost immediately.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Louis sniffs before holding the grape up again. “Since you don’t care, you’ll be fine with missing this, won’t you?”

Then he tosses it without warning and Harry’s eyes glow gold automatically as he leans up to catch the grape in his mouth. They fade back to green before he glances over Louis who looks surprised and that makes Harry grin as he chews pointedly.

“Suppose you’ll have to kiss me now,” Harry sing songs and Louis feigns a scandalized look but Harry doesn’t have to wait long for Louis to crawl over, fitting himself between the ‘v’ of Harry’s legs.

“You think you’re so clever,” Louis mumbles but the expression on his face looks fond and that’s why Harry shakes his head, smiling.

“No, I think _you_ are. Now kiss me, you fool,” he tells him and Louis leans forward, pressing closer to Harry before he kisses him softy. Harry smiles into the kiss without meaning to and soon, Louis pulls away to smile back.

“You’re lovely,” Louis murmurs and Harry flushes, before shaking his head. Louis doesn’t let him say anything though because he just presses a finger to his lips and Harry takes that as an order to keep quiet so he does until Louis says, “So where are these cupcakes I’ve been hearing of?” and he has to laugh.

 

**Day 44; Saturday, June 14th, 2014.**

 

Harry stares at the chestnut colored horse in disbelief before glancing over at Louis in further disbelief.

“You want me to ride a _horse_?” Harry asks and Louis nods, before feeding another sugar cube to his own ivory colored horse and petting its mane.

“Lila’s super lovely, Harold. In fact, she’s broke to death so anyone—even the twins can ride her because she’ll just follow Ivana or any of the horses she’s riding alongside. She couldn’t hurt a fly. I promise you’ll be fine,” Louis says, offering Harry an sugar cube to feed her which he takes warily.

He’s not afraid of interacting with Lila as much as he is of riding her, considering that he’s never ridden a horse, even one that's as ‘broke to death’ as Louis says Lila is, in his entire life. He’s a bit worried he might be the one broken to death. Just a bit.

Harry sighs quietly and then holds his hand out towards Lila who takes the sugar cube in her mouth before nuzzling against him.

Louis’ horse, Ivana, is licking his hand while Louis laughs delightedly, petting it.

“Come on, it’s nothing to be scared of, I promise. Ivana has never let me fall and from the few times I rode Lila, she was just as lovely,” Louis reassures when he catches Harry staring.

Harry pulls a face and looks back at Lila who’s watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. Louis is looking at him similarly and at any rate, Harry is not equipped to deal with two different sets of pleading eyes.

That’s why he sighs again and nods. “Alright, let’s do this,” he grumbles and Louis grins at him.

“Great. I was wondering how long it would to take to convince you. You know the England versus Italy match is on today, right? For the World Cup? I was worried we were going to miss it.”

“Hey!” Harry protests and Louis shrugs, reaching forward to kiss his cheek and Harry forgives him in half of a second.

After Louis makes sure Harry’s saddle is on properly and helps Harry get on her, he leans over to whisper something to Ivana that Harry can’t hear but when he mounts Ivana easily, clearly from years of practice, there’s a smile on his face. Harry can’t help the way his lips turn up.

They ride for a while after that, just the two of them.

Lila is actually lovely, Harry notes ten minutes in. She’s sweet and Harry finds himself asking Louis for sugar cubes to give her more often than not when they occasionally stop for breaks. Louis passes them without a word but the smirk on his face is telling.

It’s later when they’re riding again that the smirk that makes Harry say, “You do know Italy is going to win, don’t you?”

Louis literally _gasps_ in horror and it’s so funny that Harry bursts into giggles on the spot. “What type of hooligan _are_ you? Who let you into my country?”

Harry is still giggling when he replies, “Don’t act like it’s my fault that you’re the Prince of a country that’s going to lose.”

“I am going to deport you,” Louis threatens, moving his reins into one hand for a moment in order to point a threatening finger at Harry that only makes him laugh harder. “This type of betrayal is forbidden.”

Harry snorts at that and throws a sugar cube at Louis’ head making him squawk in disbelief.

“So not only are you betraying my country but now you’re _attacking_ me?” Louis asks in an affronted tone and Harry shrugs, offering him a bright smile.

“It is what it is,” Harry quotes smugly and Louis makes a face that he finds quite endearing. “Now, why are we riding horses at a quarter to ten?”

The glower Louis was giving him fades into a softer look and Harry watches as Louis ducks his head, looking back down at Ivana instead of Harry. “I thought maybe it was time I tell you more about me,” he mumbles and Harry is immediately intrigued.

“Then tell me,” Harry replies.

So for the rest of the ride, Louis talks to him.

He tells Harry a _lot_. He tells him about how ever since his mother died, things haven’t been the same. Tells him about how the girls were pulling away from for reasons he still doesn’t know (and Harry feels a flash of guilt because he does know). Tells him that he’s terrified that no matter what Harry’s article says, he still won’t be able to be king.

Harry sits there silently and nods along when it’s appropriate but all he can think is that Louis doesn’t even know the half of it, he doesn’t know about all the lies and the magic and how fucked up the Parliament really is. He has no clue and Harry doesn’t want him to know. He wants to make a bubble and stay inside of it with Louis, protecting him from all the terrible things in the world but he can’t and he hates it.

What makes it infinitely worse is when Louis turns to him and says, “But you make it better, you know? Even though there’s so much bullshit I have to deal with, I got you somehow. You’re a distraction from all of it. Like, if I have a shit day at least I know you’ll be there with your stupid dimples and terrible jokes at the end of it and that makes me feel like it’ll all be _okay_ , even if it isn’t now.”

Harry wants to cry because those are the last words he ever wanted to hear come out of Louis Tomlinson’ mouth. He doesn’t want to be the person that makes it better—not when he’s a problem himself. Not when he’s the one who’s lied to him since the day they met. Not when he’s the one who’s helped his sisters keep their biggest secret from him. Not when he’s the one that’s supposed to tell Louis the truth about everything. Not when he’s the one with the burning in his veins, even now.

Not when he’s the one that heard Louis Tomlinson sob outside his bedroom, in the dead of the night, drunk and miserable.

“I’m glad,” Harry replies, swallowing past his disgust for himself to give Louis a smile.

Louis smiles back and faces forward with a serene look on his face but then seconds later, his smile flickers and his face falls as he glances around.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks because any distraction is better than the thoughts in his head right and Louis flushes slightly before he pulls back lightly on Ivana’s reins, bringing them both to a stop because Lila falters in step when Ivana does.

After a second of silence, Louis turns to Harry with an apologetic expression. “We might be lost,” he offers timidly, shrugging his shoulders and Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Lost?” Harry repeats slowly. “I thought you said you knew this forest like this back of your hand?”

When Louis just offers him a sheepish look in return, Harry bites back his smile as he feeds Lila another sugar cube and says, “And here I thought it would be the lovely Lila that would let me down.”

Louis pouts before muttering, “Now we’re going to miss the start of the match,” and Harry can’t help his giggle this time, ducking his head before he smiles just a little because he knows exactly what he has to do. He dismounts, swinging his right leg over Lila's back and pulling his left foot out of the stirrup before sliding off. He can hear Louis asking what he’s doing but the second he’s hidden by Lila, his eyes are gold.

It takes him a moment to concentrate and when he does, he searches for the path ahead.

The last time he did this was a few nights ago, when he was teaching Phoebe how to do healing spells and he heard someone outside the door and wanted to check who it was, only to find it was Liam and Zayn walking to their room.

Right now though, it helps him to see the way out of the forest, showing him exactly which turns to take and how to avoid any foreseeable problems. He smiles to himself before leaning closer to Lila, whispering, “ _Astyre_ ,” so that she knows where he intends to guide her.

Then, eyes still glowing gold, he puts a foot into the stirrup of Lila’s saddle and then swings a leg over before settling back into the saddle. He blinks quickly, eyes changing back to green before looking over at Louis who’s staring at him like he’s insane.

“What in the hell are you _doing_?” Louis asks incredulously, clearly bewildered and Harry just grins brightly in reply.

“Lila and I know where to go,” Harry sing-songs before leaning forward to whisper in Lila’s ear, “ _Lære us, forþbrenge us, ætlæde us_.”

She whinnies quietly before she starts to trot forward and Ivana follows after her, making Louis fall forward in surprise before he manages to grab onto the saddle steady himself and readjust his grip on the reins.

“What do you mean you know where to go? During the picnic yesterday, you couldn’t even tell me north from south!” Louis protests, looking mildly alarmed.

“Why don’t you let me know then? You can be the compass and I’ll be the ship,” Harry replies without missing a beat, reaching forward to feed Lila another sugar cube.

When Louis just continues to stare at him incredulously, he smirks and cocks his head to the left. “That’s north by the way, in case you were wondering.”

Louis pulls a face, shaking his head and saying, “No, it’s—“ and while he’s distracted, Harry looks up towards the treetops and his eyes flash gold once more as the sun starts to peak through, showing Ivana and Lila’s shadows on the ground. Louis falters in what he was saying, staring down at their shadows before looking back up at Harry. “—where you said.”

In return, Harry wiggles his eyebrows while Louis continues to look on in confusion. “How on earth would you know that?”

Harry shrugs, holding a hand out for more sugar cubes which Louis places in his hand warily. “Sense of smell,” he replies without thinking and then mentally winces. He’s a bit stupid sometimes. At Louis’ further bewildered look, he expands, “When the wind is from the north, you can smell the sea.”

Louis immediately turns up his nose, saying, “That’s ridiculous,” while his lips turn down.

It makes Harry giggle again and he mumbles, “Trust me just this once,” eyes bright as he stares ahead of them, pointedly avoiding Louis’ frown.

Lila is still trotting along happily and Harry pets her mane gently because she’s sweet and probably disturbed by the fact that she’s under the control of Harry’s magic.

As it would turn out, animals are a lot more aware of the magic in the world than humans are. Or, at least that’s what Paul tells him.

“You have no idea where we’re going,” Louis argues, raising an eyebrow and Harry just bites his lip, shrugging. He doesn’t bother to say anything in reply because suddenly they’re at a clearing now and he can see the palace.

“No idea at all,” Harry agrees, smirking and Louis just huffs quietly but when Harry looks over, he’s smiling down at Ivana so he figures that Louis isn’t as upset as he’s pretending to be.

At least his magic isn’t completely useless.

 

**Week 8**

**Day 45; Sunday, June 15 th, 2014.**

 

It’s two in the morning and Harry thinks he might fall asleep.

He’s on his fourth cup of coffee but that doesn’t stop his eyes from drooping. He’s past sixty hours without sleeping and he doesn’t know how much longer he can make it, not at this rate at least.

Everyone else is sleeping—or at least, he believes they are. There’s no one to talk to in hopes of keeping himself up but he doesn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night with _more_ bruises.

Eventually, his mind wanders to Louis and before he knows it, he’s getting up and walking across the hall. He hesitates before he knocks on the door quietly and when he gets no answer, he tries the doorknob.

To his surprise, the door opens and Harry steps into the room. It’s dimly lit by the moonlight coming in through the window and he sees Louis lying on his side, breathing quietly.

He’s nearly positive that Louis is sleeping and he knows he should turn and go back to his room but instead, he takes a few steps forward until he reaches Louis’ bed and then stands there for a moment, unsure.

Finally, he gives into the urge of whispering Louis’ name while reaching out to shake his shoulder gently and when he does, Louis stirs slightly before he blinks his eyes open.

“Harry?” Louis wonders groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Immediately, Harry feels bad. He knows how busy Louis’ days are and how hard the Prince works yet here he is, waking him up in the middle of the night because he’s afraid to go to sleep.

“I’m so—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I’m just—I’m sorry, I’ll go back to—sorry,” Harry stammers, making a move to leave but then fingers wrap around his wrist and keep him in place.

“What’s wrong, love?” Louis mumbles, pulling Harry’s wrist lightly and making him turn towards him. “Are you alright?”

Harry nods, feeling a warm flush rise in his cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ He apologizes, gnawing on his bottom lip and then Louis tugs sharply on his wrist until he stumbles onto the bed.

“Stop apologizing, yeah? Lie down with me,” Louis urges, letting go of Harry’s wrist only to intertwine their fingers together instead.

Harry hesitates for a moment before he decides that he might as well so he lies down and Louis follows in suit after a few seconds. “Are you sure—” Harry asks quietly and Louis shushes him before scooting closer, lying his head against Harry’s shoulder.

“Go to sleep,” Louis mutters and then Harry feels lips press lightly against his collarbone once before Louis settles in, his hair tickling the skin under Harry’s chin.

It’s then that Harry realizes Louis smells like rain. That seems like a good metaphor for Louis—he’s the light drizzle that falls on a summer afternoon but he’s also the lightning storm that strikes in the dead of the night. He is the morning dew and the clear puddles that kids splash through, laughing brightly.

He falls asleep to that smell without meaning to and when he wakes up at nine in the morning, there’s no new bruises or marks. He doesn’t go back to sleep though and instead, he stares at Louis.

Louis is different like this—when he’s sleeping. His face is even softer than usual and he looks younger, just slightly despite the scruff across his cheekbones. His lips are parted just slightly and Harry can hear him slowly breathing, watch the air puff out.

One of Louis’ arms is thrown over his waist and it burns where he’s touching but it’s a pleasant burn, one that settles into the pit of his stomach. It’s a lot similar to a different feeling he gets around Louis and he slowly comes to the realization that he’s hard against Louis’ thigh.

He doesn’t know how he can move away without waking Louis up because he’d have to pry the older man’s arm off of him first and that seems like more struggle than it’s worth.

It seems that he doesn’t really have a choice then because Louis stirs slightly, nose brushing against Harry’s collarbone before he blinks up at Harry with bleary, cerulean eyes.

“G’morning,” Louis mumbles then, shifting slightly forward and Harry can see the moment that Louis realizes Harry is hard. His eyes get just a bit brighter than and he smiles sleepily. “An especially good morning for you then?”

Harry flushes, slightly mortified as ducks his head. He tries to make a move to roll over but then one of Louis’ hands grips his hip and keeps him in place. “Lou _is_ ,” Harry whines quietly, still trying to turn away but then Louis grips harder and in one swift movement, he’s settled between Harry’s legs.

“Can you stay still for me, babe?” Louis asks and Harry opens his mouth to protest but then he feels Louis’ fingers slipping into the waistband of his pajama bottoms and tugging them down.

Immediately, Harry’s mouth is dry and he stares down at Louis in disbelief as the older man mouths lightly against the bulge in Harry’s pants. His mouth is still gaping open when Louis moves onto his thighs, sucking bruises into them while his scruff burns against Harry’s skin.

He doesn’t mean to snap his hips up but the second that he does, Louis stops biting the skin right beneath the hem of his pants to give him a sharp look.

Harry tries to work his face into an apologetic expression but Louis goes back to biting another love bite on the inside of his thigh, scratching his beard along the already pink skin. It hurts in the way that Harry likes and the heat in his stomach is increasing, a steady burn now.

When Louis goes back to mouth at his pants, right over the bulge, Harry can’t help but whimper quietly. Louis must hear it though because he looks up at Harry through his eyelashes and pulls away to say, “What do you want, Harry?” while smirking.

Harry makes an incoherent noise and Louis clicks his tongue, shaking his head. He lifts himself up a little, pressing his thumbs into the bruises he made, making Harry exhale sharply. “Use your words, babe, come on,” Louis urges before licking his lips slowly. Harry wants to glare because he _knows_ Louis is doing this on purpose.

“You,” Harry answers simply because that’s the easiest thing he can say but clearly Louis isn’t satisfied because he hums quietly and presses deeper into the bruises on Harry’s thigh.

“Be a little more… what’s the word I’m looking for?” Louis raise one of his hands to scratch lightly at his beard before he snaps his fingers, “Eloquent. A little more eloquence would be much appreciated.”

Harry scowls but then Louis pulls down his pants so that his cock springs free, curving up obscenely towards his stomach and Louis wraps his fingers around it, holding it in a lose fist.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, then I won’t be doing anything,” Louis informs, before stroking Harry’s cock once. “You’ve got a rather pretty cock, Harold. Kudos to you.”

“I—erm— _fuck_ ,” Harry stammers because he’s nowhere near ‘eloquent’, not when Louis Tomlinson has a hand around his cock.

Louis makes a noncommittal noise as he dips down to suck a dark bruise where Harry’s happy trail ends. When he’s finished, he glances up at Harry again, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, I think we should save the fucking for a later date. How about I suck your dick? That sound good?”

Harry is seconds away from just reaching down and jacking himself off but instead of actually doing that, he just nods vigorously and he feels Louis smirk against hipbone.

“Bit excited, aren’t we?” Louis murmurs before he takes the tip of Harry’s cock in his mouth and Harry completely loses any and all coherency he might’ve had.

Louis’ mouth is wet and warm as it sinks further down on Harry’s cock, taking it inch by inch. His tongue is swirling around the head of his cock and when he draws off, he licks along the underside of Harry’s cock instead.

Harry’s breath hitches when Louis ducks back down and guides Harry’s cock back into his mouth, sucking lightly on the head before sinking down a few inches. Harry reaches down then, carding his hands through Louis’ hair but never pushing because he has a feeling that Louis wouldn’t appreciate it.

Louis bobs up and down on Harry’s cock, thumbs still pressing into the bruises on either of Harry’s thighs and when he looks up at Harry through his wet eyelashes and red rimmed eyes, Harry throws his head back. His eyes turn gold without him meaning for them to and he can feel his magic thrumming inside of him, almost alive.

He doesn’t know how to calm himself down, not when Louis is hallowing his cheeks and going further down on his cock, almost reaching the base. To anchor himself, he tightens his grip on Louis’ hair and Louis pulls up a bit at that, giving Harry a pointed look.

Soon after though, he goes back down again and Harry can feel the way his throat muscles relax before he takes Harry all the way, letting his cock hit the back of his throat.

Harry’s thighs are shaking and Louis stops pressing into the bruises in favor of holding Harry’s hips instead, keeping him in place. He pulls off Harry’s cock, leaving it shiny with spit before he glances up at Harry with glassy eyes. “Such a pretty cock,” he repeats hoarsely and Harry grunts, clenching his eyes shut.

They’re still gold and he doesn’t know what his magic is even _doing_ but he can still feel it running through him like a current, only adding onto the ball of heat in his stomach.

Louis licks at the head of his cock then before nuzzling against Harry’s thigh and biting down lightly. Harry mewls a little and he feels Louis smile against his skin before the older man licks a stripe up Harry’s cock and then takes the head in his mouth again, pumping the rest with his fist.

Harry thinks he’s probably making little indistinguishable noises now but Louis doesn’t seem to mind, lips still stretched around his cock and cheeks flushed pink.

When he feels the burning pit in his stomach start to tighten, he groans a little and mumbles, “’M close,” and Louis somehow hears it because he pulls off and starts to pump earnestly Harry’s cock, thumb brushing over the head.

He gasps quietly when he comes, arching off the bed and when he glances down, he sees streaks of his come running down Louis’ face, some of it even dripping down his eyelashes.

Louis just moves further up on the bed before wiping it off his cheek and holding his fingers out to Harry who eagerly leans forward, licking his come off Louis’ fingers.

Harry sees Louis’ other hand reach into his pants and quickly jerk himself off while Harry continues to sloppily suck on his fingers greedily, leaving them wet.

When Louis comes, he sort of collapses onto Harry’s chest and Harry reaches down to brush his hair out of his face. Louis presses a soft kiss against Harry’s butterfly tattoo then before he scoots up a little so he can kiss Harry’s mouth instead.

Harry kisses back without hesitating and he wonders if Louis can taste his come on his lips but he doesn’t ask because he’s too busy trying not to smile.

It’s a good morning.

(The rest of the day is spent lazing around in Louis’ bed, watching multiple episodes of _Breaking Bad_. That’s good too.)

 

**Day 46; Monday, June 16th, 2014.**

 

Harry is just finishing up editing the introduction of his article when someone knocks on the door. That should’ve been the first clue that something bad was going to happen.

He doesn’t know why they bothered to knock since he’s sitting in the living room but when he looks up and sees Louis there with a sheepish smile, he rolls his eyes and motions for him to come sit down beside him on the couch without questioning it like he should be.

“What brings you here, your Highness?” Harry teases, knocking knees with Louis who smiles at him, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Just wanted to see what my favorite boy was up to, that’s all,” Louis replies, eyes shifting towards the door before they settle back on Harry. He flops back onto the couch and puts his feet up on the table, crossing his ankles.

Harry stifles a giggle before Louis’ words register and he turns to give him a confused look. “Your favorite boy?”

Louis nods before reaching out to play with a stray curl that’s slipping out of the scarf Harry has wrapped around his head. He’s never really done it before, sticking to the traditional scarf around the neck but Louis seems to like it when it’s pulling back his hair, so Harry figured he’d give it a chance.

It’s rather nice to not have to push his hair back every five seconds.

“My favorite of favorites,” Louis mumbles, wrapping the curl around his finger and giving it a light tug.

Harry snorts, shoving Louis away playfully. “I’m a _man_ ,” he retorts which makes Louis tug just a little harder.

“You’re a boy. My boy,” Louis informs, voice light and teasing and Harry pouts which makes Louis grin before he starts to adjust Harry’s headscarf.

“I am not a boy, Louis,” Harry protests and Louis hums, clearly not paying attention to the words coming of Harry’s mouth as he runs a hand through his curls instead. “Are you even listening to me?”

“’Course I am, babycakes,” Louis replies, eyebrows furrowed as he brushes another stray curl off of Harry’s forehead and Harry is ready to bite him in order to get his attention but it turns out that really isn’t necessary because the twins come running in and suddenly Harry is wearing a wet shirt.

“Ha! Got you!” Phoebe shouts, punching the air with her fist while her other hand is occupied by a water gun. Daisy is at her side and she’s still spraying Harry, eyes lit up mischievously.

The first thing Harry does is shut his laptop, shoving it underneath the couch. Meanwhile, beside him, Louis dramatically cries out, “Oi! Stop it with your ‘tings, man, at my boy!” and then he pulls out a water gun from behind his back, spraying Daisy who glares at him in disbelief.

Harry is doing the same thing, eyes wide in shock because where did Louis even _get_ that?

“You planned this!” Harry accuses after a moment, arms raised above his head to block the water that’s still coming from Daisy’s gun and Louis turns to him with a gleam in his eye.

“Maybe I did,” Louis agrees and then somehow produces _another_ water gun from behind his back. Harry is starting to wonder if maybe they were hidden under the couch cushions when Felicite and Lottie appear in the doorway with their own water guns.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry hisses, taking the spare water gun from Louis’ hand and shooting back at Phoebe who splutters as water hits her in the face.

“It’s June sixteenth,” Louis replies back, without turning to look at Harry. “No one is safe.”

Then Louis grabs his arms and pulls him in the other direction, towards the door on the other side of the room even while he’s still shooting. He does turn to Harry this time, mumbling a quick, “Save yourself,” and pushing him out the door.

Harry stares at Louis’ back in bewilderment and then down at the water gun in his hands. “What is _wrong_ with this family?” Harry grumbles to himself before he reaches forward, grabbing Louis by the shirt and pulling him out of the room.

He shuts the door behind them and when Louis catches his eye, it look like his own are shining with all the stars in the sky. “C’mon,” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging them down the hallway.

“You’re an idiot,” Harry tells him five minutes later, ducking under the dining room table while Louis shushes him, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“June sixteenth is sacred, Harry,” Louis informs, eyes darting back and forth between the two entrances. “’Tis the day the war began.”

“What war?” Harry asks incredulously, words muffled against Louis’ palm but Louis seems to understand him alright because he turns to look Harry dead in the eye.

“It was four score and—“

“Lou _is_.”

“Alright, alright. Relax, Harold,” Louis teases, taking another cursory glance around while dropping his hand. “When I was younger, on June sixteenth. I ate Lottie’s ice cream instead of mine by mistake and ever since then, she declared she would get vengeance and somehow it turned into a free for all war between the five of us. Nothing is off limits, from pranks to straight up antagonizing. We’re in the water gun stage right now,” Louis tells him, pointedly holding up the water gun and Harry stares at him with his jaw slack.

The Tomlinsons are so much more than he ever signed up for and he thinks there should’ve been a handbook on all of this so he would’ve been more prepared.

As it is, his wet shirt is sticking to his chest and he has a feeling if Louis hadn’t taken specific care to properly fix his headscarf right before, his wet hair would be in his face.

“You guys are crazy,” Harry mutters and Louis grins, reaching up to run a hand through his own wet hair. Harry takes a moment to stare because Louis is unfairly beautiful and Harry thinks he’s allowed to appreciate it every now and then.

“I for one take pride in that,” Louis says, breaking Harry out of his reverie. He’s smirking like he knows exactly why Harry was staring and that makes Harry scowl.

He opens his mouth to deny whatever Louis’ thinking but then before he can, Louis leans forward and fits his lips against Harry’s, his free hand moving to Harry’s neck and pressing him closer.

Harry gasps quietly in surprise but then sinks into it, tilting his head to get better access and Louis sighs softly into his mouth.

It’s obviously a rookie mistake because suddenly, cold water is hitting him in the back and he starts, bumping his head on the dining table. “What the—“ Harry starts but Louis cuts him off, raising a finger to Harry’s lips before he presses a kiss against his forehead and scurries out from under the table.

He hears Louis yells, “Charlotte Elizabeth Tomlinson, how _dare_ you!” and he shuffles out from under the table in time to see Lottie laugh loudly and spray Louis in the chest.

Harry takes one look down at his water gun and sighs, already knowing he’s about to regret this but eventually he stands up and offers Lottie one apologetic look before he presses down on the trigger and aims.

The smile Louis offers him is completely worth it.

 

**Day 47; Tuesday, June 17 th, 2014.**

 

Harry likes Louis more than he should.

He knows that. He definitely knows that but it hits him sort of suddenly when he’s teaching Daisy how set ropes on fire.

She’s struggling and the expression on her face reminds him of Louis and he finds himself stupidly smiling down at her instead of offering any help.

When she shoots him an exasperated look, he blinks and she sighs, dropping the rope into his hands. “You’re useless to me,” she sniffs haughtily and starts to walk away.

Then she pauses and comes back really quickly to give Harry a hug before she sniffs _again_ and walks away. Harry is very enamored.

“She reminds me of your brother,” he says fondly, smiling after her before glancing back expecting to see the rest of the girls but he’s only met with one.

Felicite is sitting on a chair a few feet away, practicing telekinesis spells and when he turns to check up on her, she’s too busy laughing, hiding her face in her hands.

He gives her a confused look which quickly turns concerned when she starts wheezing from laughing so hard, nearly bent over in two. “What are you—Felicite?”

“Holy—Jesus Christ, Harry, if you’re in love with my brother just tell him,” Felicite says between giggles and Harry offers her a blank look.

Eventually he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before sitting down in the seat next to her. “It isn’t as simple as it sounds, Felicite,” he mumbles and she shakes her head, grinning.

“I think it is that simple, actually,” she informs, poking Harry’s arm and then suddenly, she’s laughing again, pulling her hand back.

Harry levels her with a tired look then and figures if they’re going to have a serious talk about this, it might as well be now. He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth to reply.

“Even if I was in love with him and I’m not saying I am, I couldn’t tell him. It’s not—what we’re doing here, right now, Felicite? I shouldn’t be doing it. I shouldn’t be helping you with your magic. Not when Louis knows nothing about it, knows nothing about you. Even if I did love him what’s the point in telling him when I know that if he says ‘I love you’ back, he only loves what he really knows of me? Magic makes me who I am, Felicite and I won’t—I can’t be the guy your brother loves when I’m the one who’s sneaking behind his back and lying right to his face. I can’t even get the nerve to tell him that I _like_ him, much less love,” Harry confesses quietly and feels a sickening twist in his stomach at even the thought of telling Louis that he loves him.

Felicite’s face quickly turns incredibly somber as she stares at Harry and Harry offers her a weak smile. “It’s not easy, y’know. Nothing is when you’re born with gifts like these,” he mumbles, pulling one of his legs up to his chest and resting his cheek against his knee.

“You love him though, don’t you?” Felicite asks hesitantly and Harry shrugs.

“I don’t know. I try not to think about it. I hope I don’t. It’ll only make it harder to leave,” he mumbles and this time Felicite frowns.

“Leave?” she repeats and Harry nods, even as his face rubs against his jeans.

“Yeah, leave. Remember? I leave in two weeks,” he reminds and the distraught look on her face would be funny if it didn’t make him feel so awful.

“Shit, I forgot but you can’t—Harry, we _need_ you,” she begs frantically, reaching out to grab his arm. “We don’t know anything and our magic is so out of control. I don’t think we can do this without you.”

Harry shakes his head, resting his own hand over hers. “Yes, you can. You’re all such strong, lovely, independent girls and you’re capable of so much more than you think. You’re not just Felicite Tomlinson, Princess Royal. You’re Felicite, sorceress and that’s a part of you that has always been there, even before you met me and it’ll be there after I leave. Don’t doubt yourself,” he advises quietly and she looks close to tears as she shakes her head.

“But you’re my brother now too,” she whispers and Harry doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to that so he pulls her into a tight hug. When she starts crying, he feels infinitely worse but he doesn’t let go until she’s calmed down.

“You’ll be okay,” Harry promises, squeezing one of her hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing up. “I—I need to go work on my article, I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t make a move to get up, just watching him with red rimmed eyes and he feels like a coward when he walks out of the room, closing it quietly behind him.

He runs into Louis when he’s walking to his room and Louis does a double take when he sees him. Harry wonders if he looks as awful as he feels.

“You alright, Harold?” Louis checks, grabbing Harry’s elbow as he passes by and Harry nods quickly, not wanting to talk more than he has to.

“I’m fine,” he reassures and then tugs his elbow back and heads to his room without saying anything else. He can feel Louis’ eyes burning into his back right up until he shuts the bedroom door behind himself.

 

**Day 48; Wednesday, June 18th, 2014.**

 

Someone knocks on Harry’s door and tells him that Louis has a meeting in an hour but that he can’t attend it for confidential reasons.

Harry simply rolls over and goes back to sleep without thinking twice.

The next time someone knocks on his door, it’s Daisy who walks in and falls bodily on top of him. Harry huffs in surprise, blinking his eyes open to see Daisy staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Harry asks, reaching up to rub his eyes and she hums quietly, reaching up to tug harshly on one of Harry’s curls. He winces in surprise, reaching up to pull her fingers off. “What was that for?”

“You’re supposed to be kissing my brother, not making him _sad_ ,” Daisy scolds, scowling and Harry stares at her in bewilderment. He is clearly not awake enough for this.

“What do you mean I made him sad?” he asks, distraught as he sits up and Daisy flops over on to her back, sighing in exasperation.

“You ditched him this morning!” she reminds and her tone is rather accusatory as is the glare that she’s sending his way.

Harry scratches his head, confused for a moment and when he does, he feels a bump on his head that he knows wasn’t there before. His dreams are back and he has no one to blame but himself. He pushes that thought out of his head though and then he glances over at the clock on his bedside table and sees that it’s a quarter past noon.

“Why did no one wake me up?” he asks in disbelief, pushing his blankets off and getting out of bed almost immediately. He grabs the first pair of jeans he sees and makes for the bathroom before he falters in step and turns back to Daisy slowly. “Wait—but someone said I wasn’t supposed to go?”

Daisy frowns then, her expression turning into one of confusion as well. “Then why is Louis sad?”

Harry gives her an exasperated look but he has a feeling that it turns out fonder than he intended. “Well I don’t know love, why don’t you go ask him?”

This time Daisy shakes her head and sighs, clearly sulking. “Before they left, Liam told me they wouldn’t get back home until after my bedtime.”

Harry tilts his head, puzzled for a moment because in the past eight weeks that he’s lived at the palace, not once did Zayn, Louis and Liam all leave at once. He wonders if it’s a lad’s night out type of thing.

If it is, he’s both sad and happy because Louis deserves to have a nice night out but at the same time, he’s selfish and wishes Louis were here with him.

Daisy’s words ring in his ears though—what she said about Louis being sad doesn’t make any sense to him and he wants to know, right now, but he can’t find out until at least one of them come home.

In the meantime, Harry sighs and forces his lips to turn up into a smile. “Better make use of the day then! Come on, Daisy,” he urges before crouching near his bed. “I’ll give you a piggy back ride!”

He can’t see Daisy’s face but when he hears her make an unimpressed noise, he turns to her in bemusement only to find her leveling him with a disapproving look. When the look doesn’t waver, Harry throws his hands up in defeat and asks, “What did I do _this_ time?”

Daisy sighs dramatically, before jumping off the bed and patting Harry’s back lightly. “Louis says you have a bad back,” she discloses and then takes his hand instead.

“I could’ve given you a piggy back ride though,” Harry protests but Daisy leaves no room for arguments as she pulls him out of the room and down the stairs.

The end up in the dining room where suddenly, a chorus of voices yell, “Surprise!” and Harry blinks in shock to see Lottie, Felicite and Phoebe grinning at him.

Daisy lets go of his hand to join them and then she gestures towards the table. “We made you breakfast!”

Harry has to refrain from doing something stupid like crying and he wipes underneath his eyes quickly while muttering, “Um, there’s something in my eye,” under his breath but it’s obvious none of the girls believe him because they keep beaming.

Finally, Harry just holds his arms out instead and all four of the girls race forward, hugging him tightly and Harry takes a second to take in the fact that when he leaves here, he’s not just losing Louis. He’s losing these girls who he had no idea he would come to love this much, but he does and for some reason beyond him, it’s mutual.

There’s so many things going on his life that right now, he just wants to melt into this hug and never let go because it’s nice and it’s warm and Harry happens to love group hugs.

He has to pull away eventually though and he does so without a feeling of nostalgia but soon enough, they’re all sitting around the table eating breakfast and then Harry gets to spend the entire day with the four of them, lazing around.

It’s a nice change and he’s glad that they got to do this before he left—to have one day with each other, putting all their magic aside. It reminds him that these girls are real people that’s he’s become attached to and wishes he weren’t leaving in two weeks.

Later that night, it seems Harry isn’t the only one who’s thinking about the fact that he’s leaving because he wakes up to a loud crash outside and when he uses his magic to see what’s going on, he sees Louis outside of his room, drunk.

It brings back a sense of déjà vu that makes him feel slightly nauseous but he forces himself to concentrate on Louis, on the words coming out of his mouth.

“He’s going to leave, Zayn! He’s going to leave me behind and he’s going to go and I’m not—we won’t be together,” Louis shouts and then promptly tips over, falling onto the floor.

Harry winces but Louis just sits up, rubbing his head and then glancing around himself in confusion. “Zayn, where did you go? I was—this is Harry’s room, Zayn. Harry sleeps here but sometimes he sleeps with me too. I wish he always slept with me. He even lets me be the big spoon,” he slurs and then starts to giggle.

“I wish he would stay, Zayn. I want him to stay. Do you think he’ll stay if I ask?” Louis wonders, nearly losing balance again but then catches himself before he can. “He got a tattoo for me, you know that? It asks if he can stay! What a silly thing—of course he can stay. I want to ask him to stay. Harry can stay, right?”

No one answers him and Louis shrugs to himself before he starts to hiccup quietly. Harry just barely hears the words, “Stay with me, Harry,” before someone comes down the hall and helps Louis up.

“I think it’s bedtime for you,” Liam says and then helps Louis to his room while Harry stays sitting in his bed, eyes fading back to green.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head to himself once. “You can’t stay. You won’t stay,” he says to himself like it’ll help and then he somehow manages to go to sleep, those words like a mantra in his head.

**Day 49; Thursday, June 19th, 2014.**

 

Harry wakes up with a bruise on arm but other than that, he’s relatively fine. He can still hear the man from his dream in his head though and he’s come to hate the man’s voice with a bitter passion.

He’s contemplating getting on his knees and begging for Louis to let him sleep back in his bed before he remembers last night and feels sick to his stomach.

It takes an entire minute of breathing silently while his nails dig into his skin before he can focus again and he firmly tells himself to _snap out of it_ before he gets out of bed.

The first thing he does is check his email and he regrets it almost immediately because there’s an email from Leigh that tells him she needs the final, edited copy of his article by tonight.

He’s not even halfway through.

Harry sighs because he knows what he has to do and that is stay cooped up in his room all day until he finishes the article which won’t be until late into the night. He already dreads the day ahead.

When Liam pops by to tell him that there’s nothing to do today, Harry tells him about Leigh’s email and Liam assures him that no one will bother him for the rest of the day.

It all goes to plan even though at some points, he hears random yelling outside the door but no one ever comes in and Harry manages to get through a good portion of the article by the time nightfall rolls around.

Coincidentally, nightfall is also the first time someone opens the door since Liam closed it.

Harry looks up from his laptop to see Zayn standing in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable. After a moment of hesitation he comes in and closes the door behind him.

“I—erm, I know you have your article to work on and everything but Louis’ organized a surprise for you?” Zayn informs, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking unsure.

Harry sighs, shaking his head. “I really can’t do surprises right now. I have to finish this,” he says, gesturing towards his laptop, “Tell Louis that I’m really sorry and that maybe we can do it another time?”

Zayn smiles sadly before shaking his head, pressing his lips together. “It’s a bit of a once in a while type of deal. Are you absolutely positive that you can’t join Louis for the surprise?”

After a moment of deliberating, Harry sighs again and nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he mumbles and Zayn nods briefly, a slightly disappointed look on his face before he leaves the way that he came.

Harry is slightly curious about the surprise but he also knows that there’s no point in wondering about it right now so he pushes it out of his mind and focuses on his work at hand instead.

It’s only an hour later that he realizes he’s working faster than he was accounting for and that he only has one more section to do until he’s finished. With that in mind, he allows himself a small break and finally leaves his room.

No one seems to be around when he gets downstairs and maybe he should question it but he doesn’t even think about it as he heads into the kitchen to grab an apple. He’s still in the kitchen when he hears footsteps approaching and he sees Liam step into the kitchen, offering him a bright smile.

“Harry! Have you seen Louis around?” Liam asks and Harry shakes his head apologetically, taking a bite into his apple.

Almost immediately, he drops the apple back onto the counter because David fucking Beckham walks in after Liam, a curious look on his face. “Who’s this?” David Beckham asks and Harry is too busy wide eyed to properly introduce himself. Instead, he manages to grip onto the counter in case he falls over and embarrasses himself further.

Liam walks out then, muttering a quick, “I’ll be right back,” and it’s all Harry can do to not run after him and drag him back because now he’s alone with David Beckham who offers him a polite smile.

In response, Harry waves awkwardly, and says, “I’m—I’m Harry. And you’re David Beckham. Wow,” because he’s an idiot and it’s one of those days that his brain to mouth filter isn’t working.

David’s smile widens though and he reaches a hand out for Harry to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

After half a second of just staring at the man’s hand in awe, Harry reaches out to shake it. Just as he lets go though, Liam enters the kitchen again but this time, he has a frown on his face.

“I have no idea where Louis went but he’s not here…” Liam notifies David who slumps his shoulders.

“Ah, that’s a shame, mate. I was really hoping to meet him. Suppose I’ll have to settle for next time, yeah?” David offers and then claps a hand on Harry’s shoulder, making him jump. “Have to catch my flight.”

Liam nods, looking a little sad and before Harry can help himself, he blurts, “Can I take a picture with you?” and then feels completely mortified.

It turns out alright though because David Beckham simply laughs at Harry and tells him to get on with it then which quickly turns into an entire five minutes of picture taking.

After what is practically a photo session with Liam and David Beckham, Harry helps Liam see him out and stares after David Beckham’s car in amazement.

“If I get killed by _Direction_ , let everyone know that it was worth it,” he orders Liam who chuckles, nodding before physically dragging Harry back to his room so he can get back to work and doesn’t get fired prematurely.

When he does finally finish editing his article, emailing Leigh both the file and the pictures of him with David Beckham, he goes downstairs again for another snack.

However, just as he’s about to walk into the kitchen, he hears a door open and then five different voices are talking over one another in excitement. Harry abandons his quest to get a banana so he can find out what’s going on but then almost immediately runs right into Lottie.

Lottie is dressed up nicely so it seems the Tomlinson family went to an event of some sort and he opens his mouth to ask but she beats him to it, exclaiming, “Harry, I can’t _believe_ you didn’t come with us!”

Harry blinks at her in surprise because she’s practically shouting in his face and he manages to ask, “What?” just before Felicite shows up.

“Matt Healy is so _gorgeous_ , Lottie! I can’t believe we met him!” she screams shrilly, launching herself at Lottie who simply squeals back in delight.

In the split second it takes Harry to make the connection that The 1975’s concert in London was tonight and that Louis had a surprise planned for him, Louis shows up in the hallway as well.

Before Louis can say anything though, Liam comes in from behind Harry and groans, “Louis, what is the _matter_ with you? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to a concert tonight? Do you know who was here tonight, to meet _your_ sorry arse?”

Louis blinks at Liam blankly and Liam just sighs, nudging Harry. “You tell him,” Liam mutters, looking far too heartbroken on Louis’ behalf to say much of anything else.

Harry is still reeling from the fact that all of these people met Matt Healy without him that it takes a moment to register what Liam is asking him to do.

“Oh,” Harry breathes the second that he understands—understands that he met David Beckham, Louis’ childhood _idol_ , before repeating, “ _Oh_ ,” again, blinking down at Louis.

“Oh what?” Louis asks slowly, looking between him and Liam in confusion and Harry offers him a sympathetic look.

“Well, erm,” Harry starts and then falters momentarily before rushing out, “David Beckham was here. We met David Beckham,” in one breath.

There’s a moment of pin drop silence before Louis’ mouth falls open. “You _what_?”

“We met David Beckham?” Harry squeaks again and Louis looks seconds from setting the entire building on fire. Harry can safely say that he understands the feeling rather well.

“Liam, this is _third_ time this has happened!” Louis yells suddenly and Liam just sighs from Harry’s side, holding a hand to his forehead.

“You were asleep the first time and the second time you were the one that decided you didn’t want to go to the premiere of 'The Class of 92’!” Liam reminds defensively and Louis glowers at him.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have been asleep and I would’ve gone to that stupid movie premiere if someone told me that David Beckham was going to be there!” Louis protests, throwing his hands up in the air and looking ready to rip his hair out.

Meanwhile, Lottie presses a goodnight kiss to Harry’s cheek before nudging Felicite pointedly and walking towards the staircase. As she disappears from sight, Felicite shoves her phone into Harry’s hands, pointing down at the screen, exclaiming, “It’s Louis and Matt! Look!” and when he glances towards the screen, he thinks he might rip his own hair out.

“I’m going to cry,” He mumbles to Felicite who’s laughing as she switches apps so she can text Harry the picture. Harry doesn’t know if the question to ask in this situation is _why is this my life?_ or _how did Felicite get my phone number_?

Next to them, Louis is still shouting at Liam who’s standing there with a defeated expression. Finally Harry decides he needs to intervene and the only remedy he knows that can fix anything are hugs so he steps forward and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck without warning.

Louis freezes for a moment, arms still raised mid-gesture but then after a moment, he drops his arms around to wrap around Harry’s back instead.

Harry nuzzles into his neck, settling there for a second and breathing in Louis’ scent. He doesn’t know why but he almost feels like they _fit_ together. As if they’re puzzle pieces.

Behind him, he can hear Felicite groan loudly and Liam sigh not soon after. That’s followed by the sound of two pairs of footsteps leaving the hallway and then it’s just Harry and Louis.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asks quietly and Louis barks a laugh, his entire body shaking and Harry scrunches his nose, nosing Louis’ neck. “That’s not what I meant.”

Louis snorts and Harry can feel the older man’s smile against his shoulder. “I don’t know, Harry. I mean, getting to meet David Beckham _and_ sleeping with me? That sounds like too much fun for just one day.”

Harry pulls back from the hug, slapping Louis on the arm lightly. “ _Hey_!” he complains, stretching the last syllable out, lips turning down into a pout. “You’re the one who got to meet Matt Hea—”

The kiss comes unexpectedly but suddenly Louis pulling Harry in by the back of the neck, fitting their lips together and Harry is helpless but to melt into his touch.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” Louis murmurs then, pulling away to press a soft kiss against Harry’s nose. “But if you so much as mention the Beckham thing once, you can sleep on the fucking floor.”

Harry can’t help his giggle but he nods in reply and lets Louis lead him by the hand to his room.

When he’s asleep, Harry changes Louis’ lock screen to the picture of him and David. It’s completely worth the pillow fight he has to face in the morning.

**Day 50; Friday, June 20th, 2014.**

 

“Why are you trying to kill me?” Harry complains, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and pointedly ignoring the curious looks they’re getting.

“No one is going to try to murder you, Harry,” Louis replies calmly and Harry can almost see him roll his eyes behind the sunglasses on his face.

“You have _fans_ , Louis and they’re frankly terrifying. Teenage girls are scary—you should know that! You have to live with two of them!” Harry reminds, giving Louis a look that he doesn’t acknowledge.

“I don’t have fans. They’re just—they’re just dedicated followers of the Royal family. Not fans,” Louis protests and Harry glowers at him.

They’re in downtown London and Louis’ definition of discreet is having a huge, bulky guard trail their every move. It’s actually starting to get a little scary.

“Getting a tattoo is not worth this much effort,” Harry grumbles but he doesn’t stop following Louis and when the older man reaches behind him to link their fingers, he lets him easily.

In the back of his mind, he knows that’s a bad idea because if Louis does get recognized all while holding Harry’s hand, they’re both in a lot of trouble. He knows that but he doesn’t do anything to stop it.

“Are you sure no one’s going to kill me?” Harry tries a minute later and Louis huffs quietly, bringing them both to a stop.

“You’ll be fine, Harry, I promise. If anything, Preston will fight off any crazy fanatic that throws herself at you,” Louis reassures, gesturing towards the guard who nods gruffly.

Harry pouts and Louis sighs quietly, pinching the bridge of nose before casting a cursory look around and leaning forward to kiss Harry.

It doesn’t last for more than a few seconds but when Louis pulls back, he takes Harry’s face in both of his hands and forcefully says, “ _You’re_ fine. _We’re_ fine.”

After a moment, Harry nods and Louis lets out a sigh of relief, leaning forward to press another quick kiss to Harry’s lips before pulling away and resuming their walk. Harry doesn’t say anything else for the remainder of their walk to the tattoo parlor but he thinks that has a lot more to do with the fact that he feels like he’s on fire than anything else.

Every time Louis so much as touches him, a flash of lightning quick heat passes through him and at some points, it’s so overwhelming that he has to squeeze Louis’ hand to ground himself even thought that defeats the purpose.

Louis is good at that though. Keeping Harry grounded. Well, Louis is a lot more effective than pinching himself, at any rate.

When they actually get to the tattoo shop, a girl with a nametag that reads _Maddie_ catches sight of them and walks over, smiling.

“It’s nice to see you, your Royal Highness,” she greets before she looks over at Harry with the same smile. “Is this the guy you were telling me about over the phone?”

Louis nods and Harry checks that their fingers are still tangled together because the way that Louis is smiling at Maddie makes his skin itch but then she says, “He’s just as cute as you said. You really know how to pick them,” and he realizes that she’s smiling _fondly_ at them.

He feels a little silly but it seems neither of them have noticed Harry’s possessive moment because Louis just nods. “Thanks,” he replies before glancing to the side and meeting Harry’s eyes. He doesn’t say anything but suddenly Harry has to duck his head to hide his smile.

There’s a beat of silence before Maddie claps her hands together and gestures towards the counter where a blond haired girl is flipping idly through a magazine. “Kara can show you some designs if you want. I know you said you didn’t come with anything particular in mind so I thought we could help.”

“That sounds great,” Louis agrees, walking over towards the counter and Harry follows after him curiously. In the back of his mind, he thinks that if a design catches his eye, he might get another tattoo as well.

“Just let me know if you choose something! I’ll be in the back,” Maddie tells them before disappearing through an open door just as Kara slides over a stack of papers with tattoo designs on them.

Harry gestures for Louis to get on with it but before he can walk away to look at some of other designs around the shop, Louis lifts Harry’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss along his knuckles.

“Such a gentlemen,” Harry teases, even as his cheeks warm and Louis shrugs, winking once for good measure. Harry chortles and makes a move to turn but then his arm brushes against one of the papers and it falls to the floor.

Harry bends down to pick it up but then when he sees the design at the bottom, he ends up faltering momentarily.

It’s a sketch of an anchor and through the ring, there’s a rope that twists off into the shape of an infinity symbol. The sketch isn’t any more than that—just a sketch but Harry is suddenly in love with it and knows he’s getting it before he leaves.

He picks the sheet up, putting it back onto the counter and he opens his mouth to say something to Kara but Louis grabs sketch before he can. “This is so sick,” Louis declares, pointing out the anchor and rope duo to Harry who just raises an eyebrow because _what are the odds_. “Kara, can you call Maddie?”

While Kara disappears off into the backroom, Harry wonders how out of all the tattoos in the entire shop, he and Louis just _happened_ to choose the same one. A voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Simon starts whispering about fate and Harry quickly focuses back on Maddie walking through the door instead.

“Did you decide?”

“Yeah, I want this one on my wrist,” Louis gestures towards the sheet. “Can I get just the rope though? Is that alright?”

Maddie nods while she takes a closer look at the sketch. “Of course, you can. Just head into the back room—I’ll meet you there in a minute,” she tells him and Louis grins brightly before gesturing for Harry to join him.

Harry hesitates for a few seconds before shaking his head. “I—um, I just need to use the loo really quick. I’ll meet you in there?”

In reply Louis shrugs, still smiling as he squeezes Harry’s elbow lightly and then he heads towards the back. Once Harry is sure that he’s out of hearing range, he turns to Maddie. “Can I get the anchor?”

Maddie laughs quietly before replying, “I had a feeling you’d say that,” and her eyes are shining brightly as they watch him. “Jordan can tattoo you while I do Louis. She’s in the other room, if you want to head on in there. I’ll make some excuse for your boy back there.”

“You may just be my favorite person in the world,” Harry tells her earnestly, all previous spiteful thoughts completely absent.

That makes Maddie laugh again before she shakes her head. “I think your favorite person is waiting for me to tattoo them actually but it’s the thought that counts,” she replies, smirking as she tilts her head towards the back room. “Go on then.”

Harry does just that, taking the sketch with him and when he shows it to Jordan, telling her what the tattoo stands for, she _awww_ ’s for solid minute. It makes him feel just that much more pleased about this tattoo.

He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before—after all, he’s the one always going on about how Louis keeps him grounded. Anchored is just another word for it but Harry think it’s a bit more than that.

There’s quote Harry read once, ‘ _Find an anchor. Something meaningful to you. Bind yourself to it, keep the human side in control.’_ and he thinks that explains a lot about his life and why Louis is not only the person that keeps him from losing himself but is also the person that he wants to lose himself in.

That’s why he doesn’t think twice before letting Jordan tattoo the ink onto his left wrist. He does however, take a moment to think about whether or not he wants Louis to know about the tattoo right away and eventually, he figures he’ll save it for later. Even if Louis doesn’t admit it, Harry knows he love surprises.

Once he’s all bandaged up, he rolls his sleeves back down, taking special care to cover it up all the way and thanks Jordan sincerely from the bottom of his heart (those are the exact words he uses). She simply laughs, telling him it’s a pleasure to tattoo someone who’s as in love as he is. That makes him feel slightly ill but he still smiles at her anyways.

When he goes back outside, Louis isn’t done yet so he sits there with Kara who offers him an amused smile but doesn’t say anything. Harry spends most of the waiting time fidgeting with his shirt sleeve, trying to distract himself from the fact that what he’s essentially done is permanently inked Louis onto him _again_.

Louis comes out then, patting his bandaged right wrist while nodding along to whatever Maddie is telling him and Harry lips tug into a smile because Louis _would_ get it on his right arm.

The second Louis catches sight of Harry though, he raises an eyebrow. “You were in the bathroom for a long time,” he comments and Harry freezes, casting Maddie a wide eyed look. It seems Louis catches it because he smirks before reaching out to nudge Harry’s arm gently. “I’m just kidding. You could’ve just said it makes you queasy to see other people get tatted. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Harry hopes the relief he feels at those words isn’t too obvious on his face but he has a feeling it might be because behind Louis, Maddie buries her face in her hands and shakes her head.

“Oh. Um, yeah, sorry,” Harry mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just wanted to spend time with you.”

That seems to work because immediately Louis’ face softens and he reaches for Harry’s waist, pulling him closer until they’re face to face. “You’re ridiculous,” is all he says before leaning up and kissing Harry, hands on either side of his face.

Harry makes a surprised noise but that just makes Louis get on his toes, gaining more leverage so he can kiss Harry properly. It takes a second for Harry to realize that they’re snogging in the middle of a tattoo parlor and then another second to understand that Louis doesn’t seem to _care_ who sees them.

That makes Harry’s chest burn a little because Louis is just—so, so much. He’s so selfless and loyal and brave and basically all the things that Harry himself isn’t. He sometimes wishes Louis weren’t so wonderful but then at the same time, he doesn’t want to change a single thing about him either.

When Louis finally does pull away, he’s smiling softly and Harry smiles back easily but over Louis’ shoulder he catches the eyes of three different girls staring at him in amusement.

He would defend himself but he honestly has nothing to say so he mouths, “Sorry,” and he sees Maddie roll her eyes, while Jordan hides a laugh behind her elbow and Kara goes straight ahead and buries her face in her hands in what seems to be mortification on his behalf.

It’s alright though because when he and Louis are leaving, all three of them are smiling fondly after them and in his mind, Harry briefly thinks that he and Louis could take over the world if they tried.

—

Harry is half asleep on Louis’ shoulder, watching who knows what—something that the twins left on—and he’s in no state to be speaking to anyone but when Louis shakes his arm lightly, he manages to blink his eyes open curiously.

“What?” he asks and when he finally catches the look on Louis’ face, he realizes it might be more of a serious matter than he’s willing to deal with at two in the morning.

Louis hesitates for a moment, a nervous look on his face before he says, “My—there’s this place, yeah? Windsor Castle?”

Harry nods slowly and then sits up, rubbing at his eyes so he can pay better attention. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. You used to stay there a lot, didn’t you?”

When Louis doesn’t reply, looking a bit solemn, Harry nudges him and presses a kiss to his shoulder, mostly because he can help himself. Louis shoots him a grateful look though before he takes a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s like a second home to me. I spent most of my childhood there… It was my mother’s favorite place.”

There’s a beat of silence before Louis continues, voice quiet and hesitant, “I haven’t—ever since she died, I haven’t really been there… But last month, I made plans to go up there for this weekend and I was wondering if you’d want to join me?”

Harry is nodding before Louis gets a chance to finish. “Of course, I’ll go with you,” he reassures and then pointedly takes Louis’ hand and squeezes. “I can’t say that it’ll be fine but I can say that I’ll be there the entire time with you through it.”

Louis smiles sadly before he kisses Harry’s cheek softly and immediately, Harry’s cheeks start to burn. His magic is acting up a little—a steady burning but it’s entirely possible that has more to do with Louis than it does with his magic.

“Thanks Harry,” Louis mumbles before he stands up and helps Harry to his feet. “You look awfully tired, love. Let’s go to bed.”

Harry nods slowly before repeating, “Bed.”

 

**Day 51; Saturday, June 21 st, 2014.**

 

It takes Harry two seconds to realize that he’s going to be spending the day holding Louis’ hand and making sure he’s alright. He wonders what it says about him that he looks forward to it.

The day starts with a drive—not for Harry though. Louis disappears through the front gates, shouting a promise of, “I’ll see you in two hours!” while Harry giggles and waves goodbye.

He turns to see Felicite behind him smirking and nearly falls over in surprise. “Felicite, can you _please_ not do that?” he requests, holding a hand to his chest. Above them, a light flickers and Felicite glances up in amusement before meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Why am I hearing rumors that you and Louis are going off on a holiday together? What’s up with that?” she asks, knowing hips with him as the guards shut the door.

Harry gives her a questioning look. “Where did you hear that?”

“Around,” Felicite answers in a way that’s far too suspicious and he immediately knows that Zayn’s the one that told her. “So where are you two going?”

“Canada,” Harry answers flatly and Felicite pulls a face at him.

“The Prime Minster of Canada hates Louis actually, so I doubt that,” she says and this time Harry is the one that’s pulling a face, even as he holds the kitchen door open for her.

“You can’t _hate_ Louis,” Harry protests, reaching for an apple and he ignores Felicite’s smirk. He is _not_ Snow White. “That’s not possible.”

Felicite snorts before snatching the apple from Harry’s hand and biting into it. “Try living with him for fifteen years, Harry and get back to me on that.”

That makes Harry sigh wistfully and he quietly mumbles, “I wish.”

“Well, maybe he’ll end confessing his love on this trip of yours,” Felicite suggests meekly but when he looks up, she’s frowning.

Harry’s voice is bitter when he says, “That wouldn’t help.”

After a moment of silence, Felicite’s shrugs a shoulder. “Want to come watch Britain’s Next Top Model with me?” It’s a rather obvious attempt to change the subject but Harry appreciates it all the same.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees and then after a moment, just takes the entire fruit bowl with him to the living room because no one else in the Royal family actually eats fruit unless they’re around him.

Of course when Cher finds out, she threatens to rip out his bollocks and Harry makes a decision to never take anything from the kitchen without her permission ever again.

Then again, he only has ten days left anyways.

—

It’s beautiful.

That’s the first thing he thinks when he sees Windsor Castle.

The second thing that he thinks is that it’s still not as beautiful as Louis, who’s sitting next to him with a troubled expression on his face, clearly a little on edge if the way he’s drumming his fingers against the window is any indication.

Harry doesn’t do anything other than take Louis’ other hand and lace their fingers together, running his thumb along Louis’ knuckles soothingly.

It’s not that Harry expects for it to take away the anxiety that Louis probably feels, but when it does manage to settle him down a bit, Harry feels a smile tug at his lips. In fact, Louis calms down enough that he even stops drumming his fingers against the window and places that hand beneath his leg, so he doesn’t start to fidget again.

It’s slightly unconventional but Harry’s noticed that a lot of Louis’ methods are. It’s just another thing that Harry is hopelessly endeared by.

When they get out of the car and actually into the castle, Louis is silent and he seems hesitant as he moves from room to room. Harry follows after him, keeping a hand on the small of his back so he doesn’t lose him on accident as he looks around.

The inside is not a let down—it’s just as beautiful as the outside is and Harry thinks he understands why this place used to be the Queen’s favorite place to stay.

He also understands why Louis is in such a quiet mood.

In certain rooms, Louis speaks up, pointing things out but his voice is hollow and Harry wishes he could make it better but he doesn’t know how.

What he can do though is take Louis’ hand once again and give it a squeeze. He doesn’t know if it helps but Louis offers him a small smile in return so he thinks it’ll all be okay.

They arrive at a bedroom with high ceilings and paintings along the walls. Harry tilts his head curiously and looks up at the closest one, admiring it when he feels arm wrap around his waist followed by Louis’ chin on his shoulder and then lips pressed against his cheek. “Thank you for coming with me,” Louis mumbles into his shoulder.

Harry hums quietly before turning around in Louis’ arms to hug him tightly. He likes to hug Louis—in fact, he would dare say it’s better than kissing him. It’s just that when he’s in Louis’ arms, he doesn’t feel like he’s lost in his own magic or even scared of it. No, Louis feels _safe_ , he feels like home in the truest sense of the word and Harry can’t begin to understand it but he knows that there’s no other way to explain it.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Harry murmurs back and then rests his head against Louis’ shoulder. He doesn’t know how long they stand there like that but finally Louis’ hold on his shirt loosens until they’re separate. Louis looks a bit sheepish but Harry is quick to offer him a bright smile.

It’s then that he notices the piano in the room. It’s sleek, black and relatively new from what Harry can tell. From the second he sees it, he wants to know whether or not Louis plays but he can’t just _ask_. Not when Louis is clearly upset.

So instead, he spends the rest of the night wandering the grounds with Louis who finally gets a smile on his face when Harry pretends to be tying his shoes—honestly, why did Louis even buy that? He’s wearing _boots_ —and instead, causes a lightning storm.

However, Louis’ immediate reaction is to gape open mouthed. “Is it _raining_?”

Harry, of course, just replies with a shrug and eventually says, “Maybe someone just wanted to make you happy,” quietly.

The look he gets from Louis is one that he wishes he could frame because he’s never seen someone’s eyes burn _that_ intensely and just as the rain just starts to fall heavily, Louis pulls Harry in by the neck and kisses him deeply.

If not anything else, Harry does expect it this time and he kisses back, tilting his head and leaning closer. He wonders how or when his life became so cliché that he’s kissing someone in the rain.

When Louis pulls away, he brushes a thumb over Harry’s cheekbone and he’s still giving Harry that _look_. “ _You_ make me happy,” Louis murmurs and then he smiles his crinkly eyed smile.

Harry feels like his insides are twisting with a million butterflies and he decides to let Louis know as much. “You make me happy too. In fact, you give me butterflies,” Harry informs, reaching down to pull his shirt up and reveal the butterfly tattoo.

Louis lets out a loud laugh in surprise and shakes his head fondly. “You’re something else, Harry Styles.”

“You’re always saying that though,” Harry reminds, letting his shirt drop back down. He’s glad he’s taken to the headscarf thing because otherwise he would have wet hair in his face. “I don’t know what ‘something else’ means.”

He takes the arm that Louis holds out and loops his own through it, stepping closer to him just as Louis shrugs, saying, “Neither do I. I just know there’s something about you and even though I have no idea what it is, I do know that I’m glad it’s a part of you.”

In the back of his mind Harry thinks _Magic. I have magic and that’s what you don’t know. That’s what’s special about me. That’s what you just can’t figure out_.

“You do hear yourself, right?” Harry teases instead of saying that, reaching up to brush Louis’ wet hair out of his eyes. The rain is still falling hard and it’s hard to make out much other than how bright Louis’ eyes are and how they’re staring at Harry like they can see straight into his soul.

Louis’ fingers find their way around his wrist, stopping him mid-movement and Harry feels Louis’ thumb brush along his sparrow tattoo. “I do, actually. You know who else should hear me though? Everyone.”

Harry doesn’t have a moment to really process what that means before Louis is turning and shouting, “Harry Styles makes me really fucking happy!”

Some of the guards that are walking nearby stop to stare at them and Louis waves cheerfully while Harry’s cheeks burn. “You’re insane,” he mumbles but he’s pretty sure the smile on his face contradicts every word that comes out of his mouth.

Louis seems to know too because he leans closer, lips against Harry’s ear, repeating “You make me really fucking happy, Harry Styles,” and Harry shivers slightly.

Harry decides to just accept his life is as cliché the rom-coms that he and Niall watch to cheer themselves up because Louis pulls him into another kiss just as lightning flashes across the sky.

—

Louis does play the piano.

After they both get inside, clothes soaking wet and giggling into each other’s mouths, Harry’s back hits the piano and he looks behind him in surprise.

“Ouch,” he mumbles just to say something and Louis glances towards the piano himself.

“I really need to get that moved to a different room,” Louis muses and his hands squeeze Harry’s hips gently. “Are you okay?”

Harry nods, before tilting his head and asking, “Do you play?” nonchalantly, even though it’s been itching at him for hours.

He can see hesitance written across Louis’ face before he finally nods slowly. “Yeah, a little bit,” he confirms, his voice quiet.

Even though Harry knows he shouldn’t because he can tell this is a bad subject to focus on, he requests, “Will you play for me?” just as quietly.

Louis looks torn for a split second and Harry is about to take it back but then Louis lets go of him to instead walk around him and sit on the piano bench. Harry waits a moment before joining him, taking a seat on his left.

Right before Louis’ fingers touch the keys, Harry whispers, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Louis.”

In reply, Louis shakes his head and his index finger lightly presses down on a key. “My mum showed me how to,” he confesses. “She bought me this piano right before she died.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked for you to play it,” Harry apologizes immediately, furrowing his eyes as he stares at Louis who’s staring down at the piano with a wistful expression.

“That’s okay,” Louis assures quietly before he turns to look at Harry. “I want to play for you, it’s just—I might mess up if I play.”

Harry hums quietly, before lightly bumping his shoulder against Louis’. “I won’t even know the difference,” He reminds in effort to cheer him up and Louis cracks a small smile.

“Alright,” he agrees, “Then I’ll play for you.”

“It would be an honor if you did,” Harry replies, still watching Louis for any signs that he might be lying—that he might not want to do this.

He doesn’t see anything telling and that’s when Louis takes a hold of Harry’s right hand, gently pressing down on the sparrow tattoo again. “Because you’re my favorite bird,” he murmurs quietly and Harry blinks at him, unsure how to respond.

It turns out he doesn’t have to because Louis simply presses a kiss to his wrist before turning back towards the piano. ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XM5-8OxS6f8))

Louis starts off with one hand, pressing down lightly on the keys but then as he repeats the keys over and over, he seems to grow more confident with it and he begins to press down with more enthusiasm. Soon after that, he adds his second hand.

Harry doesn’t know what to watch—either he can choose to watch Louis’ delicate hands as they press down on multiple keys, almost as if they’re dancing across the keyboard. His wrists look incredibly delicate, bending this way and that way as they move. Harry is completely captivated.

But there’s something about Louis’ expression that’s more important. He’s face is soft and open as he presses down on key after key, an almost peaceful look. Harry can almost see him losing himself in the familiar motions and it’s strange because it looks so natural—like Louis was born to play this piano, to have that look on his face. For the first time since Harry’s met him, Louis looks naked with emotion.

He’s completely stunning like this and Harry wishes he had a way to capture this moment, to put it on billboards and show everyone that Louis Tomlinson is completely and utterly beautiful.

When Louis does finish, he’s more hesitant again, the last few keys soft. He presses down on one final key before he lets out a breath and sits back in his seat. The moment he turns towards Harry, a tentative expression on his face, Harry leans forward and kisses him.

It’s not like their usual soft kisses—it’s different. Harry is kissing Louis with the intention of never stopping but then Louis is the one to pull away, expression slightly confused but still pleased. “What was that for?”

Harry doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he mutters, “Want you to fuck me, please,” and he hears Louis inhale sharply in surprise.

“You—Harry?” Louis’ question isn’t even a full sentence but Harry just nods, leaning forward to attach their mouths again and despite his initial hesitance, Louis’ lips part and he kisses back.

After a moment, Harry moves onto Louis’ neck, softly biting down and then soothing it over with his tongue not even seconds later. Louis is watching him with dark, hooded eyes now and it makes Harry’s skin feel like it’s on fire. Or that might be his magic, but still.

Harry takes the initiative to climb into Louis’ lap, pressing open mouthed kisses along his collarbones and finally, he begins to roll his hips down against Louis’ who groans softly in return.

“We can’t—Harry, come on, on the bed,” Louis urges and Harry whines softly, still sucking a bruise into Louis’ collarbone, right above his chest tattoo.

They do manage to get to the bed though, after a few more requests on Louis’ part but by that time, both their shirts are gone.

Louis is on top now and he’s currently twisting one of Harry’s nipples. Harry writhes beneath him, bottom lip quivering slightly. “You really have got four,” Louis muses quietly before his other hand comes up to pinch Harry’s other nipple.

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry mewls quietly, arching off the bed and Louis twists particularly roughly, giving Harry a disapproving look.

“Be good, love,” he reprimands lightly and when Harry nods, Louis stops twisting Harry’s nipples to lean down and replaces his fingers with his mouth instead. They’re already painfully puffy and red which seems to please Louis as he licks around them, just a little dragging of his tongue.

How is he supposed to be good when Louis is doing _that_?

His cock is hard in his jeans and they’re still a little wet from the rain so when Louis finally takes mercy on Harry’s nipples and unzips his jeans, they comes off with a squelching noise.

It doesn’t seem to really matter to Louis because he tosses them off to the side and then almost immediately, Harry’s pants follow in suit, leaving him completely naked on the bed.

“You have such lovely thighs,” Louis compliments softly, pressing into bruises that are just barely there. “They’re so pale. It’s like they’re just asking for me to mark them up. Do you want that? So that every time you so much as walk, they brush against each other? A constant reminder?”

Harry can’t nod quickly enough and Louis laughs quietly before he starts to bite down gently on the inside of Harry’s thighs. As he makes more marks though, scruff brushing over the sensitive skin, his teeth bite down harder and harder.

Each mark he leaves behind just makes Harry harder and he knows Louis is teasing him because he sucks bruises into the skin right next to Harry’s cock, pointedly ignoring it even though occasionally his nose will bump against it, making Harry start in shock.

“Can you please just fuck me?” Harry pleads, ready to beg if necessary but Louis looks up and just raises his eyebrows before ducking back down to make a previous mark even darker and if it didn’t feel so good, Harry might’ve complained more.

He still might actually.

When Louis finally wraps his hand around the base of Harry’s cock, Harry’s lips part as he gasps quietly, hips snapping up into Louis’ hand. He expects Louis to scold him but instead, he gets lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

Harry whimpers quietly as Louis’ licks and prods at the head, tongue against the slit. Precome spits out of his cock and Louis swallows it before pulling back, still stroking slowly with his hand.

Louis' cock is practically visible through his sweatpants, tenting up and Harry wants it in his mouth so he says as much. “Will you fuck my mouth, please?”

It’s clear Louis wasn’t expecting that because his hand freezes and he mutters, “Fuck,” quietly to himself before he’s leaning over and kissing Harry, wet and messily. “Yeah, I will, love.”

In the time it takes for Louis to get his own pants off, Harry feels his magic start to act up and he has to shove his hands over his eyes because he has a feeling they might be glowing gold.

He doesn’t see but rather feels Louis hesitate on top of him. “Harry? Are you alright?” he asks softly and Harry nods, blinking once more and praying they’re not gold before he removes his hands.

Louis is staring at him in concern but it doesn’t seem like it’s because of Harry’s eye color so he breathes out a sigh of relief and says, “I’m great but I’d be better if I had your dick in my mouth,” because he has absolutely no shame. Also, he likes the way that Louis’ eyes get impossibly darker.

“That can be arranged,” Louis assures and Harry just smiles at him before shutting his eyes. If his eyes aren’t open then Louis won’t see them. It’s simple, really.

He has to wait a moment but then he feels the tip of Louis’ cock against his lips and he parts them. He can hear Louis breathing heavily above him and then either one of Louis’ knees are against his shoulders, holding him down as well.

Louis’ cock slips out of his mouth and Harry blinks his eyes open to see that Louis is holding it just out of reach. Harry pulls a face before attempting to get Louis’ cock back in his mouth but that fails once he realizes he can’t move all that much.

After stretching his neck to no avail, he resolves to just using his tongue to reach what he can and that isn’t much. It seems Louis is done teasing though because his cock slaps Harry’s cheek lightly before finding its way back in his mouth.

Harry hums around it, pleased, and Louis slowly sinks down inch by inch, holding himself up using the headboard of the bed. Harry is still being held down so he can’t do much other than enthusiastically take Louis’ cock further, leaning up in order to do so.

Louis’ hands find a way into his hair though and when the older man tugs sharply, lowly saying, “My terms, Harry. Stay still,” while thrusting shallowly, Harry has to pinch his own thigh to keep from coming.

After that, Louis starts to earnestly fuck Harry’s mouth and the thing is Harry _likes_ it. He likes feeling the burn as his lips stretch around Louis’ cock and the way he has to relax his throat so that he can take Louis’ entire length into his mouth.

He’s pretty sure he’s making weird noises that even he himself doesn’t understand but Louis doesn’t seem to mind, keeping up a brutal pace that has Harry’s jaw aching in the best way.

Harry can tell when Louis is about to come because he starts grunting quietly but then he pulls out all of a sudden. Harry is confused for a second before he whines quietly, opening his mouth wide in hopes that Louis will put his cock back in but then Louis starts to stroke himself quickly.

That makes Harry even more confused but then Louis hoarsely says, “Gonna come on your face, alright?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer because Louis comes then and it lands all over him—his face, his hair, some of it even in his mouth which he swallows without complaint before staring up at Louis with what he assumes to be normal, green eyes. They might be a bit glassy but as long as they’re green, he’s happy.

“Will you fuck me now?” Harry asks, blinking slowly and Louis laughs above him before leaning down to press their lips together and then he wipes some of the come off Harry’s cheek before licking it off his finger.

“Not as sweet as yours,” Louis comments before nodding towards the bedside table. “Will you grab the lube for me?”

Harry hastily reaches back, fumbling with the drawer before he manages to open it and then he produces both the lube and a condom with a bright grin. “Got it.”

Louis smiles back at him, before taking it from him. “Thank you, love,” he murmurs and then he slides down the bed in one swift motion.

Meanwhile, Harry still hasn’t come and he doesn’t know how but he hasn’t so when he feels cool fingers against his hole, he nearly jumps a foot into the air but then he settles into it. Louis is teasing him again, going slowly as he rubs circles around his hole, never breaching.

Finally, Harry grinds down against his fingers and he hears Louis chuckle before he bites his arse lightly. “You’re always so patient,” Louis tells him casually, as if he’s talking about the weather and not about to fuck Harry. “How come when it comes to this, you’re not?”

Harry whimpers, shaking his head. “I—I don’t know. Just want you to fuck me.”

Louis chuckles again before one of his fingers abruptly enters Harry, up to the first knuckle. Harry nearly swallows his tongue but instead he brings his arm up to his mouth and bites while Louis pushes in to the last knuckle. Harry has a feeling Louis knows how overwhelmed he is because he can feel Louis smirking against his skin.

It hasn’t really been a while—less than a month at most since Harry fingered himself but it has been a while since someone else did it and right now, Louis has two fingers inside him.

He’s going slowly, scissoring them, making Harry muffle his groans into his elbow but then Louis stops to give Harry a flat look. “Don’t do that,” Louis reprimands, “I want to hear your noises.”

After a moment, Harry drops his arm back to his side. Louis grins at him but then twists both of his fingers again, making Harry snap his hips in surprise because it seems that Louis has found his prostate. It seems Louis knows it too because he keeps twisting his fingers that way, even going as far as adding a third finger.

Finally, Harry can’t take it anymore and he practically snaps, “Can you please just fuck me already, Louis?”

He hears Louis snort before he mutters, “Someone’s impatient,” and Harry glowers at him. That doesn’t last long though because when he looks down, he sees Louis slicking himself up with two quick pumps of his hand.

Louis crawls up the bed first and presses a kiss against Harry’s collarbone before he reaches down and lines himself up with Harry’s hole. It’s after another kiss to Harry’s jaw that his cock enters him slowly.

Harry feels like he’s being split open but not in a bad way—more in a way that’s familiar and it feels _good_. In fact, Harry immediately grinds down onto Louis’ cock, muttering, “More, more, _more_ ,” under his breath.

Despite his begging, Louis still goes slowly and then when he’s finally all the way in, hips settled against Harry’s arse, he pulls out and abruptly slams back in.

It leaves Harry feeling like his bones have been rattled and his brain feels slightly fuzzy. Louis kisses him on the mouth this time before he continues to fuck into Harry at the same pace.

When Harry looks down, he can see Louis’ cock disappearing inside of him and he feels short of breath for a moment, unable to do anything but whimper quietly.

He can feel Louis watching him and when Harry looks up into his eyes, they’re dark but somehow still as bright as ever. He doesn’t know how Louis does it but then again, he doesn’t understand a lot about Louis.

Louis leans down then, lips pressing against the column of his throat as mutters, “You’re so tight,” and Harry just mewls before he reaches for something to grab onto which turns out to be Louis’ back. He’s pretty sure he’s going to leave scratch marks but Louis is still looking at him like he hung the moon, so he doesn’t stop raking his nails down Louis’ back.

Harry doesn’t expect it when Louis pulls out and suddenly flips them over so Harry’s suddenly on top. “Want you to work for it,” Louis says when he sees Harry’s confused look. “Ride me, yeah?”

As soon as the words register, Harry nods and reaches behind him so he can grab Louis’ cock and guide it inside of himself. Once he’s fully seated on Louis’ cock, he leans his hands on Louis’ chest to give himself better leverage before he starts to move his hips in little circle eights.

He slowly begins to rock back and forth, furrowing his eyebrows and biting his bottom lip. There’s still come on his face and he knows he’s going to have to take a long shower tomorrow but in the meantime, he has more important things to focus on. Harry pushes himself up so he’s almost all the way off of Louis’ cock before slamming back down and then he starts to repeat the motion over and over.

His thighs are burning but he just wants to _come_ so he doesn’t really care, just continuing to bounce on Louis’ cock with as much determination as he can gather. He swivels his hips down in figure eights again, this time much sloppier but Louis grabs his hips tightly, helping him to ground himself. He flashes a quick look towards his anchor tattoo and it’s still bandaged but he’s surprised that Louis hasn’t noticed it yet.

Harry makes quick note to show Louis before he falls asleep but that thought quickly leaves his mind as he manages to find his prostate and nearly collapses onto Louis but then he manages to push himself through it, taking a deep breath. When he looks over at Louis, the older man is watching him in awe.

“So beautiful, Harry,” He hears Louis mumbles. “Just look at you.”

In reply, Harry shakes his head and redoubles his efforts, bouncing more quickly and he can vaguely hear Louis making quiet noises that sound like a mix between his name and quiet gasps. He, himself, has been continuously whimpering, “ _Lou_ ,” over and over to the point that he doesn’t even know when he is saying it and when he isn’t.

He knows he says it though when Louis comes inside of him and not soon after, Louis hoarsely croaks, “Come for me,” and he does, all over Louis’ chest.

After that, he just collapses into Louis’ side without a second thought and he hears Louis chuckle quietly before he feeling fingers carding through his hair where there’s still dried come.

“I’m so gross right now,” Harry mutters, shuffling closer and burying his face into the sheets.

“Shower first thing in the morning?” Louis suggests and Harry nods eagerly before pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ ribs and closing his eyes.

“Perfect,” Harry replies and then he’s ready to just knock out right there and then before he remembers the tattoo so he takes a moment open his eyes before lifting himself up. “Wait, Lou, I wanna show you something.”

Louis turns his head towards him and there’s a curious look in his eyes as he asks, “What is it?”

Harry just holds his hand out in reply and when Louis sees it, he blinks in surprise. “Another tattoo? When did you get this?”

“Just look,” Harry mumbles sleepily instead and Louis purses his lips before he lifts his hands to undo the bandage wrapping Harry’s wrist.

When he finally gets it off, Harry watches as his eyes go from curious to disbelief to awe. Louis immediately turns to Harry, lips parted. “Did you—with the rope—is this—Harry, did you get a matching tattoo with me?”

In reply, Harry shrugs and murmurs a quiet, “Goodnight,” before nestling back into Louis’ side. He can feel Louis lightly shaking him in protest but he doesn’t acknowledge it, nuzzling closer to him instead.

It’s only when he’s seconds away from falling asleep that he hears Louis sigh and feels him press a kiss against the anchor tattoo before he feels a blanket covering his bare shoulders. It makes Harry smile a little but then he hears the words, “I love you,” quietly and it feels like his heart has stopped in his chest.

Harry is suddenly awake as ever as he feels Louis press one more kiss against his forehead before the older man settles into the pillows and after a moment, Harry hears Louis’ breathing even out.

He wants to blink his eyes open and then he wants to run away. He wants to run away from _all_ of this and never come back because Louis—Louis can’t love him. Not here, not now, not like this.

There’s panic rising in his chest and he’s about to roll out from the under the blankets so he can go to the bathroom and maybe hurl into the toilet but then Louis throws an arm over his waist and he can’t move.

Eventually, Harry feels the panic slowly dissipate as his mind stops buzzing and it’s because suddenly, he feels so, so tired. He feels like weak and frail and he wishes he could disappear but he can’t. He’s here, in Louis’ arms and Louis just said that he _loves_ him.

When Harry falls asleep, it’s with worry and fear plaguing his mind.

 

**Day 52; Sunday, June 22 nd, 2014.**

 

Harry is being quieter than usual.

He wonders if Louis notices. He might not, considering it’s not that Harry is full out ignoring him. They took a shower together in the morning—before Harry’s sleep addled brain caught up to him and reminded him of the night before.

From that point, he’s limited himself to three word answers and tight lipped smiles. Meanwhile, Louis offers him bright grins and plays footsies with him underneath the dining table even though they’re the only ones sitting at the table meant for dozens.

Harry goes with it but inside his head, there’s a billion different voices yelling things like _Stop_! and _You’re only making this worse_! or even _He might love you now but what about when he knows what you’ve done_?

It’s amazing that he makes it through his breakfast without collapsing on the spot.

He knows he can’t have another full breakdown, not after the last one but the feeling inside his chest makes him want to squirm and writhe. He manages not to, if only because Louis takes his hand and he sees that the anchor and rope line up.

They’re in the car right now, on their way back to Kensington Palace and Louis is brushing his thumb along Harry’s knuckles in a manner that should be soothing but instead makes Harry feel more nauseous.

Harry chooses to look out the window instead of at Louis but he does offer Louis timid smiles every once in a while which Louis returns with a radiant beam.

That only makes it worse and Harry’s thankful it’s his day off because as soon as they get to the palace, Zayn comes jogging up to them while they’re still outside and he tells them that Louis has a garden party to attend.

Even though he knows he shouldn’t, he ignores the hopeful look Louis gives him and instead says, “Have fun,” before kissing Louis’ cheek. Then, he climbs up the stairs and disappears into the palace without a second glance.

He can feel Louis’ eyes burning holes into his back but he keeps walking and then when he gets to his room, he collapses onto his bed.

Around him, there’s various things floating as his magic finally gets permission to release all the pent up frustration that’s inside of his mind.

Harry wants to cry but instead, he sits up, eyes blazing gold and starts to break things. The glass vase on the bedside table shatters while the closet door wrenches open and then falls right off its hinges, falling to floor in splinters. The bed frame makes a groaning noise before the headboard snaps, landing where Harry was lying just a minute ago. On top of him, the light bulbs shatter and fall down the floor in pieces.

Thing and thing after thing breaks and Harry wants to think it helps him feel better but it doesn’t. That’s why, ten minutes later, he’s using his magic to fix everything instead.

Then, he waits.

He waits for something to come to him—a plan maybe that could fix all of this.

Nothing comes though.

Instead, after an hour of simply lying there, he sits up and grabs his journal off the table along with a pen before he flips to a random page and starts to write the first words that come to mind.

_One day I met someone / I met him and he smiled at me / He told me stories / He made me laugh / He made me cry / He showed me what it is to want someone with everything inside of you / He helped me learn the simple things in life / He gave me a purpose / But I did something wrong / I messed it all up / He loved me / But I was just another lie / In the endless deceptions that was his life / But he thought me to be a truth / He thought me to be the one to make things better / How was I meant to tell him that / I cannot solve his problems / For I am the issue  / That could make everything that much more worse / How can I fix—_

Harry stops and flips the page before he can write more. On the new page, he lowers his pen to journal.

_What are you supposed to do / When the person you are meant to be with / Can never be yours._

New page.

_Am I corruption / Have I tilted the balance / Can I make things right / Or will that make things worse / Will—_

New page.

_I love you / I love you / I love you / I love you / I love you / I love you / I love you / He said._

New page.

 _I love you / I said_.

New page.

 _I love you / I said_.

New page.

 _I love you / I said_.

New page.

 _I love you / I said_.

New page.

 _I love you / I said_.

Harry flings the journal across the room and brings his knees up to his neck so he can rest his cheek against one of them. His head is pounding and there’s a faint simmering in his blood but it’s not acting up—it’s similar to the calm before a storm and that scares Harry for more than one reason.

He knows why he threw his journal but it’s hard to admit it to even himself. The fact is that he knows that the words are those pages aren’t lying.

It’s true.

Harry loves Louis.

To even think of the words makes his head spin and he has to take three deep breaths before he can see straight again and everything doesn’t blur in front of his eyes.

He loves Louis.

There’s no ifs or buts about it. It’s the cold, hard truth and Harry doesn’t know how it happened but it clearly did. He’s been trying to avoid it his entire stay—he’s pointedly keep even thoughts about having feelings for Louis out of his mind.

That’s because to even admit it to himself is making it so much realer than it already was.

Harry shouldn’t love Louis. Louis shouldn’t love _him_.

For the past eight weeks, Harry has been continuously lying to Louis over and over again, telling him things that are so far from the truth it would be funny if it weren’t such a terrible thing to do.

He’s lied to Louis, he’s manipulated him and just—he’s done so much that he knows he shouldn’t have but it can’t be helped now. Harry wishes he could apologize for all of it, that he could take it all back but he _can’t_.

His mother’s words come back to him now, at the most inconvenient time and suddenly, everything is put into perspective for Harry.

No matter if Louis loves Harry or not, Harry can’t be with him. Not if he wants Louis to become the king. Not if he wants his article to actually hold any power over the Parliament’s decision.

The second that people realize Harry, the journalist that wrote the article that allowed for Louis to become king, is the same one that’s _dating_ him, his words will hold little to no worth. They won’t count for anything.

Instead, they’ll be completely void of any meaning whatsoever since Harry will seem biased and just because of that, Louis won’t be able to fulfil his destiny.

Another wave of nausea rolls over Harry as he realizes what that means—if Louis can’t become king, then Lottie will have to take the throne. Lottie, who still struggles with containing her magic and keeping it together in general.

Lottie, who he’s supposed to protect and keep safe.

If Harry was to actually—to actually be Louis’ boyfriend or anything of that sort, he’d have to come clean about everything. He knows he wouldn’t be able to keep up this farce for too long. Harry is a good at a lot of things, but he doesn’t handle well under pressure.

He can’t reveal the girls’ secret. Not the one they’ve been hiding for nearly eighteen years; not the one Louis’ own step-father hid from him and his mother for twenty six years. Not the one Harry himself has been keeping for eight whole weeks.

But Simon says he has to. Simon says that’s part of his _job_. To tell Louis the entire truth but Harry knows that the second all of this comes out, nothing in Harry’s life will be the same anymore.

How could it be when he knows Louis will go from loving him to hating him in the blink of an eye?

There’s so many things that are going to go wrong but Louis—he knows they’re not inevitable. He can still make things okay. He can fix this even if it might require breaking himself.

Harry can leave.

He can finish his job here and then go his own way and never look back.

The girls will be okay—he’ll leave his spell books here for them and they’ve already learned so much in two months that he knows they’ll have mastered everything in a year or two, with or without him.

His article will get published and millions of people will read it. Leigh says that they’re done now—if Harry wants to add a few more edits, it’s up to him but other than that she says it’s good to go.

He’ll have a job at _Direction_ after this—a nice, steady job that will pay his bills and everything else that he’ll ever need.

Niall will still be his best friend—he’ll be there with _The Notebook_ and a bucket of ice cream just like always, a bright smile on his face and a law degree in his back pocket.

His family will be just as it always is—Gemma will tease him relentlessly over things that don’t matter, his mother will love him fiercely and bake him banana nut muffins because they’re his favorite and Robin will do the Sunday crossword puzzle with him.

Maybe he’ll meet a nice guy and they’ll date for a while before they marry each other and have two kids as well as a golden retriever. Everything will be okay.

There’s someone he’s not accounting for though. There’s Louis.

Louis will become king—all thanks to Harry. He’ll be the King of England and he’ll go on to do many successful things. People will see him for the wonderful man that he is and Harry will get to watch from his home, on his television, just like he did not even two months ago.

It’ll be just as it always was.

Except, in the process he’ll have to break Louis’ heart and Harry doesn’t know if he has the strength to do that. He glances down at his anchor tattoo, thinks that maybe Louis is what makes him strong and suddenly, something inside him just snaps.

He shoves his face into his arms and under his breath he whispers, _Mod wes craeftles_ before sitting there, silently, mind absolutely empty for hours after hours.

It’s a spell that he knows one isn’t supposed to use on themselves—especially, not when they have magic as strong as his but the door is locked and he’s hoping no one will bother him for the rest of the night. At least, not until the spell wears off.

What the spell does is leave a person’s mind bare and naked.

For Harry right now, it’s making sure he doesn’t think of anything that quite possibly bring on a breakdown. Instead, it leaves his mind peacefully blank and he thinks even though it can be a lot more dangerous than say, getting drunk or smoking a joint, it’s also a lot more effective.

To his dismay, Louis does stop by. The door is locked when he tries to open it and Harry doesn’t have the willpower to get up and open it.

He lets the door stay locked and after a while, he hears Louis softly call, “Harry? Are you in there?”

Harry doesn’t answer.

Louis lightly knocks again and then he asks, “Are you okay, love? Can I come in?”

Harry still doesn’t answer.

Finally, Louis sighs on the other side of the door and Harry doesn’t see it because he still hasn’t looked up from where his face is buried in his arms, but a slip of paper slides under the door.

When he does get up, mainly because he really needs to use the bathroom, it’s half past eleven at night and he nearly slips on the piece of paper on his way.

Instead of actually slipping, Harry stops himself by grabbing the door knob and then he stares down at the paper in confusion before reaches down to grab it.

After he picks it up, he unfolds it and in the dim moonlight he makes out the words, _Meet me on the rooftop at ten. Want to tell you something ! X :)_

Harry in his simpleton state has no idea what that means so he just slides the paper into his back pocket before waddling over to the bathroom, where he falls asleep in the bathtub.

 

**Day 53; Monday, June 23 rd, 2014.**

 

The first thing Harry wonders is why he’s in the bathtub.

He reaches for the first thing he can get a hold of and it turns out to be one of the shower knobs and suddenly water is spraying him in the face.

Harry splutters uselessly before he manages to shut it off and then he climbs out of the bathtub, clothes soaking wet. He frowns at the mirror when he catches sight of his reflection. He looks absolutely terrible—worst he’s looked in his life, maybe.

After a moment, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, pushing off it off his forehead. He winces when his fingers runs over a bump that wasn’t there before and he sighs again before he walks out of the bathroom and nearly shrieks.

In the split moment it takes for him to realize it’s just Daisy, his heart nearly beats out of his chest.

Daisy turns to him with a raised eyebrow and the second that she sees that he’s drenched in water from head to toe, her face softens just a little.

It’s not much, but he’ll take it.

“Hey, Daisy, what’s up?” Harry asks cheerfully, planting a smile on his face that he knows she’ll read right through. It’s clear he’s right because she just offers him a flat look.

“You ditched my brother. For real this time,” she accuses, eyes narrowing into slits and Harry nearly shudders from being on the receiving end of that look so instead he turns towards his bags and picks up a purple colored shirt.

“Was there a meeting this morning?” Harry asks casually, attempting to find a scarf that’ll match the shirt and when he finds nothing, he drops the original shirt in favor of picking a striped red shirt instead.

“Yes, but that’s not what you ditched him for,” she snaps and Harry turns to her in confusion, a black scarf in his hands. “You were supposed to meet him on the roof last night but you didn’t. I heard Zayn and Liam talking about it.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head in confusion. He doesn’t remember much from last night but his head is throbbing lightly the way it would if he used a spell on himself so he figures he did something that might’ve been stupid and therefore, he really doesn’t want to know.

“I’m sure it’s no big deal,” Harry assures but he’s not sure if he’s assuring Daisy or himself. “Probably just dinner or something. That reminds me—you know what sounds good right now? Some food.”

Daisy scowls and shakes her head. “No, it was _important_ , Harry. I know it was important.”

That makes Harry stop in his tracks and he gives her a blank look. “What do you mean you know?”

Suddenly, Daisy is flushing and she’s shaking her head again. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you missed it, Harry and it was really important.”

“Did you have a dream about it?” Harry asks in reply and when Daisy’s face grows even pinker, he knows that she did. “What happened? What was so important?”

“I can’t tell you,” she mumbles, lips turning down. “You weren’t supposed to miss it, Harry. My dreams always come true. You weren’t supposed to—” she breaks off, biting her bottom lip nervously.

Harry can almost feel how distressed she is and he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Give me one second to change and then we’ll talk, alright Daisy?”

She frowns but then slowly nods and Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head before disappearing into the bathroom with the clothes in his hands.

When he comes back out, Daisy is standing near the doorway, digging her toes into the ground. She looks up when he enters and the expression on her face is even more distressed all of a sudden.

“What?” he wonders, drying his hair with a towel and she fidgets quietly, not answering. “Are you—Daisy, do you need a hug?”

The young Princess hesitates a moment before nodding so Harry puts his towel down before walking over to her and crouching so he can hug her properly.

All the Tomlinsons are really good at hugging. It may even be their specialty. Daisy hugs him tightly, wrapping her arms his neck and for a second, Harry thinks she might not let go but then she does.

When she pulls back though, she’s wiping her eyes and looking away which makes Harry even more worried because she’s _crying_ for a reason that’s beyond him.

“Daisy, what’s wrong?” he asks quietly, grabbing her arms gently and turning her towards him. “What happened?”

She just sniffles quietly and shakes her head. “Nothing,” she mumbles. “We have a lesson today, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t answer my question,” Harry tells her slowly and there’s a bad feeling nagging at him. “What’s wrong?”

In reply, Daisy takes a deep breath before she pulls her arms out of Harry’s grasp and she wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “Nothing’s wrong,” she reassures and then fixes a bright smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll see you at the lesson.”

Then she kisses his cheek before turning around, opening the door and slipping out of the room before Harry can do much to argue.

He stares after her in confusion, wondering why she’s so upset and then he feels a flash of guilt in his stomach because he’s going to be leaving her—and the rest of the girls permanently just because he went ahead and fell in love with their brother.

Now, they have to suffer the consequences and it isn’t fair at all. None of it is fair and Harry wishes he could blame someone other than himself but he can’t because at the end of the day, this is all his fault and no one but his.

First, Lottie breaks down during breakfast together, then Felicite when Harry during their lesson and now Daisy breaks down too, right in his own room. He doesn’t know if he can handle it if Phoebe breaks down on him as well.

Another Tomlinson break down he knows he’ll have to inevitably face is Louis’. That’s the one he wants to put off the longest which is why the rest of the day, he makes sure to avoid any and every place he might see Louis in.

He ends up just sitting in Lottie’s room because he has a feeling that’s where Louis goes the least out of all the girls’ rooms. It turns out he’s right because the entire time he’s there, no one knocks on her door once.

Of course, it earns him several bewildered looks from Lottie but she doesn’t ask at first, just lets him in and closes the door behind. He goes ahead and assumes he doesn’t look _too_ weird, snacking on fruits on the couch of her room because despite the confused looks, she doesn’t ask.

Well, not at first. She does end asking though, finally sighing and looking away from her laptop. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

Harry shrugs, taking a bite of another strawberry. “Just wanted to see your room.”

The looks she gives him makes it obvious that she doesn’t believe a single word coming out of his mouth. Despite this, she doesn’t ask further, just shaking her head and muttering, “Boys are so weird,” under her breath before returning to her laptop.

When he’s walking with her to the attic for their lesson though, he hears Louis’ voice coming from down the hall and immediately panics. He stops walking and Lottie offers him a further confused look but Harry merely grabs her hand and tugs her sharply around the corner with him. She opens her mouth but he makes a motion for her to stay quiet before he starts whispering.

"Okay, I'm sorry for dragging you here with me but your brother? He _cannot_ see me, under all circumstances and you standing there would eventually raise curiosity and I’m really sorry, Lottie but I—I just can’t talk to him right now."

Lottie gives him a look that clearly states, _I did not sign up for this_ but eventually she sighs and nudges him further along the hallway. “Come on, I know a different way to get to the attic.”

When they do get to the attic, it seems they’re not having a lesson after all because the rest of the three girls are sitting in a circle, clearly waiting for him.

Harry sits down in between Phoebe and Felicite, the latter who pats his thigh lightly just as Lottie sits down on her other side.

“What’s up?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion because they’re all giving him extremely serious looks.

“So the thing is—we all had a dream,” Lottie starts off and then she glances towards Felicite who nods, gesturing for her to continue. “About you.”

Harry blinks in surprise and he goes to catch Daisy’s eye but she’s pointedly not looking at him, staring at the ground instead. “The exact same dream?”

Beside him, Phoebe nods, confirming, “They were all the same thing.”

He’s not sure if he wants to know but after a beat of silence, he asks, “What happened in it?”

Lottie sighs loudly this time, running her hand through her hair in a way he’s seen Louis done multiple times before. “We—we can’t tell you,” she whispers, looking down in a similar fashion to Daisy.

Harry furrows his eyebrows, turning to Felicite but she shakes her head as well.

Finally, when no one speaks up, he frowns, unsure of what he’s supposed to do in a situation like this. It’s rather obvious none of them plan on telling him what happened in the dream and as much as he would love to know what has them so worried, he also doesn’t want to push them.

He hates that he has little to no experience in situations like this—hates that Simon just thrust him into _this_ situation specifically and just told him to teach the girls magic as if Harry knows what it is to teach someone _anything_. If that were the case, he would’ve become a teacher but he’s clearly did not.

Despite all odds, he thinks he did pretty well. Better than he could’ve hoped anyways but it’s still not enough because right here and right now, he has no clue what he should be doing.

There’s another beat of silence before Harry sighs loudly and gets to his feet. “So who wants to learn how to control animals?”

He expects the blank looks he gets but eventually one by one, they all get to their feet reluctantly and when they do, Harry offers them a smile.

A voice in his head reminds him that this is the last time he’s ever going to teach them magic and he has to take a moment to collect himself before he can resume the lesson.

In the end, they do manage to control a batch of frogs that Harry makes appear, so at least he knows his last lesson with them wasn’t a _complete_ waste. It does little to help his guilty conscience.

 

**Day 54; Tuesday, June 24 th, 2014.**

 

“Where have you been hiding?”

Harry starts at the voice and then winces once he realizes who it is. Instead of reaching for the banana he was planning on grabbing, his hand falls limply to his side.

“Louis,” Harry greets quietly, turning towards the older man who has a small confused smile on his face. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Louis laughs quietly before shrugging. “Not like I live here or anything, Harold,” he teases, reaching forward to poke Harry in the arm. That makes his magic act up and behind him, the fruit bowl falls to floor with a clatter.

He doesn’t react but Louis does, blinking in confusion at the fruits rolling at his feet before looking back at Harry. “That was strange,” he says and Harry’s lips quirk up just a little but other than that, he doesn’t reply.

The expression on Louis’ face changes then, switching from confusion to concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Harry nods before reaching down to grab a banana. A hand gets there before him though and Louis hands it to him as they both straighten back up. “Thanks,” Harry mumbles quietly and then he’s about to make an excuse to go to his room but Louis speaks up first.

“Uh—I actually wanted to tell you something. Do you think we can talk? On the roof?” Louis asks, voice hesitant and Harry wishes he weren’t as weak as he is and could just say _no_.

“Sure,” Harry replies, shrugging and Louis is still glancing at him timidly.

Harry is completely horrified by himself because here he is, making Louis Tomlinson whose middle name could be confidence, look at him like _Bambi_ or something and that’s why he goes ahead and takes the initiative to lead them to the roof.

The entire ordeal is making Harry want to cry and his one accomplishment this week has been the fact that he hasn’t completely broken into tears so he takes a deep breath and keeps walking.

When Louis takes his hand and squeezes while they’re walking up the stairs, he doesn’t react at all even though everything inside of him tells him to squeeze back. Louis doesn’t squeeze again.

On the roof, Harry takes a seat down on one of the benches and doesn’t say anything. Instead, he starts to unpeel his banana and after a moment, Louis sits down beside him.

“So.”

Harry looks over curiously while breaking off a part of his banana. “You wanted to talk?” he asks and puts the piece in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“Uh—yeah, I did,” Louis agrees before turning his entire body to face Harry, putting one leg over the other. “Are you ignoring me?”

In reply, Harry blinks suddenly and he swallows the food in his mouth before answering, “No, I’m listening to you,” he assures. “My banana isn’t that entertaining.”

Even when he’s supposed to be cutting himself off from Louis, it seems Harry still can’t stop himself from comforting him.

It doesn’t seem to matter though because Louis shakes his head, biting his bottom lip. “No, I meant like… in general. Are you ignoring me? I haven’t—ever since we got back, I haven’t really seen you a lot.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes quietly and then he finds he has a hard time meeting Louis’ eyes. “I’m not. I’m not ignoring you,” he lies and then winces at the burning beneath his skin.

Louis looks a little skeptical and Harry swallows past the lump in his throat just as the older man says, “If I did something wrong, just tell me, yeah? You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not—“ The words die in his throat as he stares at the forlorn look on Louis’ face. “I leave in a week, Louis.”

That makes Louis wince and he nods slowly. “I know.”

Harry has to take a deep breath and his nails bite into the skin of his thigh because he knows that the second these words come out of his mouth, everything is going to change.

“We can’t be together,” he rushes out and for a second, he hopes that Louis didn’t catch it but the surprised look on his face clearly means he did.

“What?” Louis asks blankly, blinking steadily at Harry.

“We can’t be together. You and I,” he clarifies quietly, gesturing between the two of them. “This can’t be a thing. We can’t be a thing.”

Louis is staring at him in apparent disbelief now, mouth opening and closing and Harry wishes this weren’t happening—wishes he could have a happily ever after. Wishes he were actually Snow White.

“What do you mean we can’t be together?” Louis repeats and his voice shakes a little but other than that, there’s nothing to signal that he’s that affected. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t,” Harry answers and then clenches his eyes shut because he doesn’t think he can look at Louis’ face much longer, not when it’s slowly growing more and more grief-stricken. “This won’t work out.”

“What?” Louis’ voice cracks this time. “Of course, it can work out. We can make this work, Harry.”

Harry shakes his head and he takes a moment to make sure he’s not going to cry before he opens his eyes and fixes Louis with a cold look that already feels misplaced on his face but directed at Louis, it feels completely wrong. “No, Louis, we can’t. It won’t work. You know that and I know it too.”

The words taste awful on his tongue but what’s worse is the anguished look on Louis’ face. It makes him feel ill and for a second, Harry worries he might actually be sick right there on the pink dahlias beside him.

“Harry…” Louis starts and when he reaches for his waist, Harry flinches back, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Louis but it’s the truth. I can’t be with you. This isn’t—we can’t. In a week, I’m gone and that’s it. I’m never going to see you again and you’ll never see me. That’s what’s going to happen,” Harry tells him, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat.

Louis reaches for him again and then drops his hand dejectedly but when he meets Harry’s eyes with his own, there’s a fierce look in them. “ _No_ , that’s not what’s going to happen. This is going to work, Harry. We can make this work, I know we can. Just because you’re leaving, that doesn’t mean I can’t come to see you and that you can’t come to see me. We’ll make this work, Harry. I believe in us and I believe in what we have.”

Harry scoffs even though what he really wants to do is bodily throw himself at Louis and never let go. “There’s no such thing as fate or destiny, Louis. We’re not written in the stars or anything like that. You’re a Prince, Louis and I’m just a regular guy. After this, we part our separate ways because that’s how it’s supposed to be. There’s no such thing as miracles that will suddenly make this work out.”

“Fuck that, Harry. We don’t _need_ a miracle,” Louis argues, jaw set with determination now. “All we need is each other and we have that. I promise you we can make this work. We’ll both put in a one hundred percent and we’ll figure it all out, Harry. Just trust me, please?”

In the time it takes for Louis’ words to register, he feels his magic come to life inside of him, burning so intensely it feels like they’ve charred his bones and left behind only ashes. It nearly punches a gasp out of him but he manages to hold it in right at the last second.

To Louis’ words, he shakes his head and when he replies, his voice cracks because he’s still trying to recover from the force of his magic, “Why should I trust you about this? Why should I take a chance on this, Louis? It doesn’t make sense to.”

“Because I _love_ you!” Louis shouts then and it feels like the whole world has stopped. All Harry can do is stare at Louis in wide eyed disbelief, mouth hanging open.

“I love you,” Louis repeats, softer now. “I love you and I know we can make this work, Harry. I want to make this work. Just give me a chance, please?”

Harry takes a deep breath and blinks back tears before he shakes his head. “But I could never love you, Louis,” he whispers because he doesn’t think he can say the lie any louder than that. “I don’t want this and I don’t want us. I don’t want any of it.”

This time, Louis’ mouth snaps shut and Harry can almost hear him swallow uncertainly. There’s a moment of dead silence before Louis’ voice comes quietly, “You don’t want us?”

Gathering all his strength, Harry shakes his head and answers, “No. I don’t,” just as quietly.

After a beat of silence, Louis nods and gets to his feet. “Okay. I’m sorry for—everything, I guess,” he mutters, eyes on the ground. “I’ll just leave you alone.”

Harry watches as Louis turns his back on him and then exits the roof, disappearing through the trapdoor, leaving him alone.

It takes a second for everything to sink in but then the gravity of the words he said hits him and Harry can’t help that he starts to cry, hot tears running down his face. He can’t swallow past the lump in his throat anymore—it hurts to try.

So instead, he simply sits there and cries quietly, wondering how his life turned out to be such a nightmare.

 

**Day 55; Wednesday, June 25 th, 2014.**

 

It’s radio silent.

No one comes to talk to him the entire day and Harry knows that he deserves it but the feeling of loneliness isn’t one he’s quite accustomed to.

All he can think about is Louis’ face in reply to when he said that he could never love him. It’s imprinted on the back of his eyelids and every time Harry blinks, it’s all he sees.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more awful than he does right now and he hates it. He wishes he could fix everything but he _can’t_. There’s absolutely nothing he can do but just sit and wait for it to all play out.

For now though, he settles for staying in bed all day with red rimmed eyes and writing in his journal. The _one and only_ mocks him now and he thinks about crossing it out but he knows he could never.

It’s just one of those things he’ll have to deal with it.

 

**Day 56; Thursday, June 26 th, 2014.**

 

Liam and Zayn are confused.

Harry knows this much because Thursday morning, Liam knocks on his door and asks what’s wrong with Louis, which makes it rather clear Louis isn’t speaking to anyone either.

He tells Liam to ask Louis instead of him and then shuts the door in his face.

Later, Zayn knocks on the door as well but he has a more desperate look on his face and when he says, “I know you know what happened, Harry. Please, just tell me? I haven’t seen him this bad since the Queen… Just please?”

That makes Harry feel significantly worse and he manages to mutter out that he’s not the one that Zayn should be asking before shutting the door on him as well.

He knows it’s just making it worse for himself because Louis _will_ tell Liam and Zayn eventually but he doesn’t know if he can be the one to tell them.

Just thinking about it makes him want to smother himself so he doesn’t think talking about it will be any better. Not to mention, Harry doesn’t want to involve himself any more than he already has.

Zayn and Liam will figure out on their own terms.

Then they’ll probably break all his limbs but Harry think he’ll be okay with it if they do because it doesn’t begin to compare to the pain inside his chest.

His magic has a life of its own—its demonstrated that over and over again but he doesn’t think it’s ever been more obvious because his body is in a war with itself. His magic is _mad_.

At some points, Harry swears his magic is trying to burn him alive but then he looks down and he’s fine, so he’s pretty sure his magic is attacking him mentally instead of physically.

He’s not sure which he would rather prefer at this point.

 

**Day 57; Friday, June 27 th, 2014.**

 

The second that Lottie and Felicite push past him and go into his room, he regrets getting up to open the door. He should’ve just stayed in bed.

“You’re such an _idiot_ ,” is the first thing Lottie says, sitting down on Harry’s bed to give a flat look. “I can’t believe how much of an idiot you are.”

“I know,” Harry replies simply, leaning against the door with a blank expression.

Felicite sighs next to Lottie, shaking her head. “If you know, why did you do it? I know you love him, Harry. Don’t tell me you don’t.”

Harry stays silent but that seems to be all the answer that Felicite needs because she throws her hands up in disbelief before falling back onto his bed.

“Idiot,” Lottie hisses. “Why did you _do_ that?”

“I have my reasons,” Harry replies monotonously, face still blank.

“I’m sure you do,” Felicite mutters before sitting up straighter. “If this is about us, you need to tell us right now, Harry because if that’s what it is, we’ll tell Louis. We’ll tell him about our magic, I don’t care. I hate seeing him like this. Louis doesn’t deserve it and frankly, neither do you.”

That makes Harry start in surprise and he shakes his head. “No, I don’t want you to do that for me. Don’t do that for me. It’s not just because of you—there’s a lot of reasons at play. It would be stupid for us to date when I—all I’ve done since I’ve met him is lie and lie and lie.”

“So _what_? Just tell him the truth now. Tell him the truth about this. Go tell him you love him and fix this!” Felicite all but shouts and Lottie nods in agreement.

“After all you’ve done for us, this is the least we could do for you,” Lottie mumbles and Harry sighs, banging his head lightly against the door.

“It’s not that simple, Lottie. I promise all I want is the best for your brother so that’s what he’s getting. It might suck now, but it’ll be better for him in the long run,” Harry reassures and Felicite glowers at him, looking like she might throw something at his head.

“How can you be so daft? _You’re_ what’s best for him!” This time Felicite is shouting, looking completely exasperated.

“I’m not,” Harry mumbles before he reaches behind him and turns the doorknob before pulling it open. “I’d like to be alone please, if you don’t mind.”

After a moment of both of the Princesses watching him in blatant disbelief, Felicite gets up and walks out, huffing. Lottie waits a few seconds before following after but not before she stops and says, “Everyone else can see it. Why can’t you?”

Harry doesn’t bother with a response.

 

**Day 58; Saturday, June 28 th, 2014.                                                             **

 

Next they send Daisy and Phoebe.

Harry sighs as they push past him into his room. He really needs to stop getting up and opening the door. (He has a feeling they’d blow the door right off its hinges though and he doesn’t want to have to explain that to anyone.)

He turns to shut the door and then he faces them only to be met with twin disappointed looks.

“Harry,” Phoebe starts and then she turns to look at Daisy before continuing, “You mean a lot to us. In fact, you’re like a brother to us.”

Daisy interjects, “You _are_ our brother.”

Phoebe nods in agreement before she keeps speaking, “Exactly! You’re part of the family now.”

It’s all a bit suspicious and Harry eyes them skeptically, unsure where they’re trying to go with this because it feels oddly like an intervention.

This time, Daisy is the one who starts to talk, “So since you’re family that means we have to tell you the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.”

Harry doesn’t mention that there’s a flaw in that logic considering their actual brother, instead choosing to keep his mouth closed as there’s a brief moment of silence.

Then at the same time, they both announce, “You’re an idiot.”

“Well,” Harry mutters to himself. He’s not surprised—in fact, he was prepared for a repeat of what Lottie and Felicite said to him and it seems that might just be what he gets.

“Louis loves you, Harry! He really, really loves you and I know you love him too so how can you just leave?” Phoebe asks, a frown on her lips matching the one on her sister’s face beside her.

“Loving someone means being strong enough to leave them when you need to,” Harry replies without batting an eye and Daisy smacks a hand against her forehead in dismay.

Phoebe has her head ducked down and she’s pinching the bridge of her nose, looking disappointed. Harry supposes she’s right to be disappointed. He is a bit of a letdown.

It seems Phoebe takes more after her brother because she lifts her head and meets his eyes with a new determination before shaking her head. “No,” she snaps. “That’s not what loving someone is. Loving someone is when you’re willing to do the hard stuff _with_ them, not without.”

As always, Daisy is the same wavelength as Phoebe because she continues Phoebe’s thought without hesitating. “You don’t fight with them, you fight _for_ them. Why aren’t you fighting for Louis?”

“Because I can’t,” Harry mumbles. “I’m not here to fight for him. Not like this anyways. I’m here to make sure he’s king and he will be. That’s all that matters.”

“Harry, _no_ ,” Phoebe protests, “That’s not all that matters. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being—“ It’s useless to argue because Phoebe immediately cuts him off with a glare and he shuts his mouth, not wanting to spark the argument further.

“Lottie, Felicite, Phoebe and I are going to Windsor tomorrow, Harry. If you don’t fix this, this might be the last time we ever see each other,” Daisy tells him haughtily and Harry’s head snaps up in surprise.

This is the first he’s heard of their trip to Windsor Castle and even he knows that Daisy is using this as a tactic to guilt him into fixing things with Louis, he still feels horrible.

He wishes this were easier.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so awful all the time.

“We have tomorrow morning,” Harry offers weakly and that seems to does it for Daisy because her bottom lip quivers before she runs past him to the door which she opens before disappearing.

Phoebe shakes her head at him, disappointment written clearly in her face as she follows after her sister, shutting the door behind her.

Harry takes a step after them before he falters and then eventually he ends up closing the door and sliding to the floor. There, he sits and wishes he were in an alternate universe where loving Louis was easier.

As it turns out, he’s stuck in this current universe and wishing does little to help.

 

**Week 9**

**Day 59; Sunday, June 29 th, 2014.**

 

Harry tries really hard not to cry.

Lottie hugs him once more, squeezing him gently before pulling away. “You’re such an arsehole,” she mumbles, wiping underneath her eye. “You should be here when we get back. Not halfway across London.”

From beside her, Felicite punches his arm. “If you think we won’t bother you all the time just because you’re not here, you’re sadly mistaken. We have your number,” she reminds but she’s sniffling so it’s not as intimidating as she probably intends.

Daisy and Phoebe are already in the car, having said their goodbyes about ten minutes before and even though Daisy acted mad for five minutes, eventually she gave in and started crying on his shoulder.

“Yes, you do,” Harry agrees quietly. “If there’s ever an emergency or anything, I’m always just a text away.”

“I hope you know I’ll be texting you if I so much as stub my bloody toe,” she mutters bitterly but then she reaches over and hugs Harry tightly, burying her face into his scarf. “I’m so, _so_ mad at you.”

Harry snorts before dryly saying, “Join the club.”

“Don’t think we won’t start a club,” Lottie grumbles but her eyes are shiny now and the last thing Harry wants is for one of them to start crying over him _again_.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” he teases lightly, reaching around Felicite to poke her in the arm with his index finger.

Felicite lets go of him then, rubbing her nose with her sleeve before picking up the duffle bag at her feet. When she stands back up, she says, “We’ll miss you a lot. If you even try to cut off contact with us, I’ll find you and punch you in the face,” voice shifting from sweet to threatening.

In reply, Harry chuckles halfheartedly before nodding. “Wouldn’t even think of it,” he assures, reaching over to the squeeze her shoulder. “And I’ll miss all of you too.”

“You better,” Lottie says and then she gives him one more quick hug before nodding towards Felicite. “Come on, we have to go.”

Felicite hesitates for a second before she pecks him on the cheek lightly and then follows after Lottie who’s walking down the steps.

Once they’re halfway to the gates, Lottie turns around, shouting, “We love you, Harry!”

It’s those words that makes him smile for the first time all week. “I love you guys too!” he calls after them and pretends to catch the kiss that Felicite blows him before they turn back around and start to jog to the car waiting for them.

He can vaguely make out Daisy and Phoebe in the tinted mirrors but he doesn’t have time to really figure out whether they’re waving or not because Felicite and Lottie both get into the car and then it’s leaving, driving around the corner.

Harry stares after them for a moment before he turns around. He freezes though when he sees Louis standing at the top of the staircase, expression carefully blank.

They meet each other’s eyes for a solid beat of silence before Louis turns and disappears without as much as a single word.

The look is enough for a thousand words.

 

 

**Day 60; Monday, June 30 th, 2014.**

 

Harry hesitates a moment before he decides that he might as well.

He wraps the black scarf around his head, even though the pink flowers don’t match his red plaid shirt at all. Originally, he was just going to wrap it around as his neck like he always does but he figures that showing one last sentiment for Louis won’t be such a bad thing. After all, today’s his last day.

His bags are all packed since he had nothing better to do yesterday as no one is the household is really speaking to him—for all the right reasons, of course.

Zayn and Liam stopped by earlier in the day to tell him goodbye and wish him luck in whatever he does in the future but he could read the disappointment on both of their faces. It makes him sad that those are the expressions on their faces as they leave for a meeting that Harry won’t see them come back from and even now, he feels it in his gut—a certain nausea he just can’t get rid of.

Harry hasn’t seen Louis since the day before and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He knows he’s not going to leave without saying goodbye but he also doesn’t know where he’s going to find the strength to do it.

He rubs absently at the anchor tattoo on his wrist and he feels his magic hum to life beneath his fingers. That makes him smile almost nostalgically.

The facts are that as soon as he leaves this palace, he won’t have to hide his magic anymore. He won’t have to hold it in and he won’t have to deal with this constant burning in his veins because Louis will be so far out of reach that Harry will probably never see him ever again.

That’s something he’s trying not to think about too actively.

It’s funny that the first day he was coming here, he tried to keep Louis out of his thoughts and even now, on the last day, that’s the exact same thing he’s still doing.

He doesn’t know when his world began to revolve around Louis but he thinks it happened a long time before he even knew. He thinks his magic has known long before him.

Harry sighs quietly and reaches for his duffle bag. The guards already took his luggage downstairs and now this bag is all that he has left in Kensington Palace. The remains of two whole months of his life are in this bag.

Once he slings it over his shoulder, he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything which he does—his phone, a packet of gum and his wallet. He’s leaving the way he came.

Except that this time his heart is heavy with the feeling of _the end_ and there’s a scarf that he didn’t buy himself wrapped around his head.

He trudges out of his room and shuts the door behind himself. He hates the feeling in his chest that reminds him just how much he’s leaving behind.

Staring at Louis’ door makes a different feeling erupt in his chest and he hates that one even more than the first. Every time he breathes, it feels like there’s pieces of glass stuck in his heart, twisting and digging deeper inside of him.

Eventually, he gets the nerve to knock on the door and when there’s no answer, he knocks again. When that gets no response, he hesitatingly turns the doorknob and pushes the door open.

At first he doesn’t see Louis but then when he does, he feels infinitely worse because Louis is every bit as beautiful as the first time Harry ever spoke to him.

Louis looks up when the door opens, eyes blinking in surprise and the second he recognizes Harry, his expression changes from one of curiosity to one that’s blank.

“Sorry, didn’t hear you,” Louis says stiffly, pulling out earphones that Harry didn’t notice. “Did you need something?”

Harry just stares back, unsure what he’s even supposed to say but then he swallows loudly and mumbles, “Just wanted to say goodbye.”

That seems to spark something in Louis because his expression flickers with shock before he manages to get a hold of it again. “Are you leaving right now?”

In reply, Harry nods and clutches his duffle bag closer to himself.

Louis’ eyes zero in on the bag before they meet Harry’s eyes again. “I suppose this is goodbye then.”

For a moment, Harry is afraid that that’s all their goodbye will be. Just Louis waving once idly from his bed while Harry stands in his doorway, biting his lip but then Louis stands up.

He walks towards Harry slowly, cautiously like he’s afraid Harry might recoil if so much as takes one step too brashly and that makes Harry want to cry all over again. He's fucked up so badly.

When Louis finally gets to him, Harry can see hesitance written on his face before there are arms wrapped around him suddenly and Harry doesn’t waste a second in hugging back like his life depends on it.

Harry has a lot of favorite things about Louis—he likes Louis’ eyelashes, he likes the way Louis laughs with his eyes crinkling, he likes the way Louis never fails to come up with a witty reply, he likes the way Louis smiles fondly at his sisters, he likes the way Louis speaks with his voice confident, he likes the way Louis shouts whenever he makes a goal in football, he likes the way Louis’ scuff feels against his thighs, he likes the way Louis kisses him—always taking more and more, he likes the way Louis is brave when it comes to things that no one else could ever dream of facing, he likes that Louis has tattoos littered across his skin, he likes the way Louis takes care of the dahlias on the roof, he likes the way Louis fixes his scarves and he likes the way Louis never treats him like Harry is any less than he is but what Harry likes the most is the way Louis hugs him.

Louis hugs him like he never plans on letting go, arms tight as a vice around his waist. Harry wishes with his whole heart it was the case right now—that Louis would keep him here in his arms and never let him go anywhere else for even a second.

That’s a plan that Harry could get behind.

Life disappoints him though because after one more beat of silence, Louis murmurs, “Goodbye, Harry,” in his ear before letting go.

Harry’s throat is closed up and he can’t even manage to mutter a goodbye back. Instead, he just nods and he hopes his eyes aren’t too shiny with tears.

Louis’ face is carefully blank again and Harry waits for a second, waits for _something_.

He thinks that if Louis asked him to stay, he would.

Louis doesn’t ask though.

So Harry nods once more before he turns around and starts to walk to the end of the hallway. With every step he takes, there’s a part of his brain yelling _please Louis, please ask me to stay_ but instead, when he gets to the staircase, he hears a door slam.

Along with it, his heart shatters into pieces.

Harry takes a deep breath, pressing a thumb against his anchor tattoo instead of pinching the skin there and somehow, it manages to calm him.

With the knowledge that Louis will keep grounding him, even when he isn’t actually there with Harry, he manages to make his way down the stairs to the front door where most of the household staff is waiting.

They all hug him goodbye, even Lux who clings to his leg until Lou pulls her off, mumbling an apology.

Harry can see it on all of their faces that they’re just as disappointed as Liam and Zayn. He doesn’t blame them—he’s a bit disappointed in himself but then he reminds himself that he’s doing this _for_ Louis. He’s doing this so Louis can become the king.

After a final goodbye, he walks out the front door of the palace. Even the _guards_ , who usually have stoic expressions look like they’re sad to see him go. It just dampens Harry’s mood further.

It’s only when his bags are put away that he thinks that maybe he really is a bird, because he never stays in one place, always flies away. His hand goes to his airplane necklace and then he starts for a second when he finds his neck bare.

He blinks down in confusion and just as he thought, the necklace is gone.

For a second, he feels stumped as to what’s going on but then suddenly a piece of information clicks into his mind. His dreams—the ones that have been affecting him physically; they shouldn’t have been possible. His necklace is supposed to stop dreams of that nature and give him a peaceful sleep. It’s supposed to protect him.

The only time he hasn’t woken up with bruises or marks is when he was with Louis and that’s when it occurs to Harry that his necklace must be in Louis’ room.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure whether he should go back and get it but then he realizes he really doesn’t want to face those dreams until Paul can get him a new necklace so he heaves a sigh and turns to the guard closest to him. “Is it alright if I head back to get something I forgot?”

The man nods gruffly and Harry offers him a tired smile before going back the way he came.

He knows the rest of the household is having a picnic outside in Kensington Garden and that he could’ve stayed for it, but he thought the sooner he left, the better it would be. He didn’t want to deal with the looks he would get and he still doesn’t want to deal with them now so he’s glad the castle is fairly empty as he heads towards the staircase.

As he walks up the stairs though, his magic burns under his skin in a way that he’s not used to. It’s a bad burn this time and it doesn’t hurt, but he feels on edge as he walks through the hallways.

It’s silent in an eerie way and it leaves him feeling jittery. His mouth curls down in unease and he flinches when he hears a door slam somewhere in the opposite direction.

He keeps walking and doesn’t let his eyes stray to the door of his old room until he gets to Louis’.

There’s a part of him that hopes he’s not in there but there’s also a part of him that he hopes he is—he doesn’t know which part is larger.

When he knocks on the door and there’s no reply, he reaches down and uses the doorknob to open the door. He waits with bated breath which turns into a sigh of relief when he sees Louis isn’t in the room. The relief doesn’t outweigh the disappointment he feels though.

Stepping inside, he closes the door behind him before he starts to glance around, seeing if maybe his necklace is just lying around.

The first place he checks is the bed, trying to see if maybe it slipped off his neck at some point but the bed is neatly made and there’s not a sign of his necklace anywhere.

Harry frowns and crouches so he can see underneath the bed. There’s a box there but it’s dusty and he doubts it’s his necklace but for the sake of checking, he reaches out and pulls it towards him.

He coughs a little when he lifts the lid off because dust rises into the air but then after he puts the lid down, he sees that all that’s inside is a letter.

Without meaning to, Harry picks it out of the box and on the top it says, _To Louis_ with the Queen’s signature scribbled in the bottom.

Something tells him that he should just put it back in the box and pretend he never saw it but his magic starts to simmer under his skin, almost as if urging him to look at it.

His magic has never been wrong before which is why despite knowing that he’s violating Louis’ privacy, Harry unfolds the letter.

In the time that it takes for him to skim the letter, he feels his heart drop to his stomach and his mouth go dry in disbelief.

It’s a letter from the Queen to Louis explaining everything.

First and foremost, explaining that she loves him and that she’s sorry.

Explaining that she fell in love with a man with power she still doesn’t understand. Explaining that because of that man, Mark, she now has four daughters with the same power and she still doesn’t understand but she’s trying her best. Explaining that it’s dangerous to know about the power they possess. Explaining her daughters are in danger every single day and that she wants to tell Louis but she can’t yet so she’s going to leave this letter. Explaining that Mark didn’t really die when everyone believed him to. Explaining that the next man she supposedly fell in love with, Dan, was simply an act to convince everyone that Mark was dead. Explaining that the twins she was about to give birth to were really Mark’s children. Explaining that Mark was killed off by members of the Parliament not soon after that because of his power. Explaining that they warned her they would kill her too if she gave birth to the twins who would have the same power as Mark. Explaining they were after her and her daughters. Explaining that if he gets this letter, they killed her. Explaining that if that happens, there’s a boy who will come into Louis’ life and protect his sisters and keep him safe. Explaining that this boy is his destiny.

Lastly, explaining that she loves him and always will and that she’s sorry.

Harry thinks he’s going to hurl.

Of course, that’s when a gunshot goes off.

Harry starts in surprise and then his eyes widen as he realizes what the noise was. He gets to his feet almost immediately after that, trying not to stumble and he’s about to run out the door to find Louis when he sees his necklace on Louis’ nightstand.

He grabs it with one hand, the letter still clutched in the other and hurries out of the room just as another gunshot goes off somewhere nearby.

A voice shouts, “You think you can hide, but you can’t! We _will_ find you!” from downstairs and Harry recognizes the voice. It makes his blood stop cold because it’s the voice of the man from his dreams—the one he can’t get to leave his head.

He’s shoving the letter in his pocket when he sees movement in the corner of his eye and immediately his eyes turn gold as he gets ready to attack but then they flicker back to their usual green when he sees it’s just Louis, coming out of Harry’s old room with a terrified expression.

Harry doesn’t stop to think as he rushes across the hallway towards Louis who hasn’t noticed him yet but as soon as Harry reaches him, he tugs harshly on his shoulder. “Stay down,” He hisses, pulling Louis down with him so they’re crouching.

Louis blinks at him in surprise before he whispers, “ _Harry_?” in blatant disbelief and another gunshot goes off. “What the fuck is going on?”

In reply Harry pulls out the letter and drops it into one of Louis’ open hands. “Read that when there isn’t an assassination attempt happening,” He mutters before grabbing Louis’ other hand. “Now come on.”

“Assassination attempt?” Louis repeats and Harry nods before tugging Louis with him across the hall, where he peeks behind the corner to see if there’s anyone coming. When it’s clear, he pulls Louis with him down that hall as well.

“I’m sorry but there’s a lot of stuff that you don’t know and now isn’t the time to explain it,” Harry mumbles, eyes still darting around for any sight of another person.

“Where are the Princesses? Find them!” someone shouts from further down the hall before their voice moves in the opposite direction.

Harry feels panic settle in his ribcage as he realizes exactly what this is. They’re trying to kill the Princess Royals. That’s what they’re here for—just like the Queen’s letter warned.

He takes a moment to thank anyone listening that the girls are at Windsor Castle right now and not here before tugging on Louis’ hand again and leading them down a clear hallway because Louis _is_ here and he needs to not be.

“Why are they looking for my sisters?” Louis asks and this time his voice is shaking.

Harry wishes he could comfort him but he can’t so instead he whispers, “I promise I’ll get you out of here safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

His words are accompanied by the sound of another gunshot and then a voice much closer than Harry expected, yelling, “Don’t think your magic can save you! We _will_ find you and then we _will_ kill you. No amount of running can save you.”

It’s not a voice that Harry recognizes but it terrifies him all the same so he starts dragging Louis in the opposite direction of it. He doesn’t know the castle well enough to know where the exits are though, which is why he stops in the middle of the hallway, biting his bottom lip.

Finally, he turns back to Louis who’s watching him with an expression that’s the mixture of bewildered and frightened. “What’s the quickest way out without going through the front exit? Somewhere secretive preferably?”

Louis just blinks at him for a moment before he inhales sharply and points across the hall. “If we keep going that way, there’s a staircase that’ll lead us to the garage where I keep my cars. We can leave from there.”

Harry nods in reply, furrowing his eyebrows. “Tell me if I make a wrong turn,” he says before continuing to pull Louis along.

They keep going for a few minutes, accompanied only by the sounds of their breathing and various shouts followed by gunshots.

This isn’t something Harry’s prepared for except for the fact that… well he is. He never knew why Paul drilled so many attack and defense spells into him when the most dangerous thing he used to do was steal a newspaper every once in a while but now it makes sense.

It’s only after Louis mutters, “We’re close,” that things take a turn in the worse direction.

Harry knows he should’ve checked the hallway before he turned into it but he didn’t and now he’s faced with two burly men, watching him in delight.

“What do we have here?” one of them says, rubbing his hands together. “Griffiths is going to be licking our arses once he finds out that we found the Prince of Wales.”

The other one just smile sadistically and Harry does the first thing he can think of, which is letting go of Louis’ hands and pushing the older man behind him. “Stay away from us,” Harry orders and it comes out weakly which makes both the men laugh.

Behind him, he hears Louis hiss, “What are you _doing_?” but he doesn’t reply, instead glaring at the men.

“Is this your boyfriend then?” the other man directs at Louis. “Can’t fight your own battles?”

“Of course he can’t,” says the first man, smirking as he takes a step forward. “He’s not like his sisters after all. He doesn’t have magic.”

Harry’s fingers dig into the flesh of his palm as he curls his hands into fists. He can almost picture Louis’ confused expression behind him and he takes a second to pray that he isn’t about to massively fuck things up.

“You’re right,” Harry agrees quietly, bringing both men’s attention to himself. “Louis doesn’t have magic.”

There’s a pause where they both stare at him blankly, clearly confused as to why he’s even speaking in the first place and Harry is slightly wondering that himself but finally he gains the nerve to say, “But I do,” and then raises his hands, eyes flickering gold. “ _Wáce ierlic_!”

Both men fly back against the walls on either side of them with a thud, before sliding down to the floor pathetically. Behind him, he hears Louis’ sharp intake of breath and he ignores it, in favor of muttering, “ _Forbærne yfel_ ,” and suddenly there’s a ring of fire surrounding both of the men.

This time Louis gasps and Harry takes a deep breath, not looking back as he reaches for Louis’ hand and pull him further down the hallway. There’s slight resistance on Louis’ part but eventually, he follows Harry down a few more hallways.

Then, of course, Louis pulls them to a stop. Harry refuses to meet his eyes even as he sharply asks, “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck was that?”

Instead, Harry shakes his head and mumbles, “We can’t stop, Louis. We need to keeping going or someone else will—“

He’s cut off by footsteps approaching and then a voice saying, “Well, well, isn’t this a lovely surprise?” and Harry curses under his breath because that’s the voice of the man from his dreams.

When he turns to face the man, unsurprisingly it’s Richard Griffiths, staring down at him with a smirk while two men with guns flank his sides.

“It’s nice to see you, your Highness,” Griffiths says to Louis, tipping an imaginary hat. “Now where are your sisters?”

Louis is staring in disbelief and Harry hopes he isn’t going to snap at the man but of course, that’s exactly what he does. “Why the fuck would I tell you?”

Griffiths merely raises an eyebrow and Harry hears one of the men reload their gun. “Well, considering I get to decide whether or not you’ll be king, I think you’ll find it in your best interest to tell me what I want to know.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Louis sneers, eyes narrowed and Harry really wishes that Louis wasn’t making this worse. “My mum? Oh wait, no, she’s dead.”

Griffiths’ voice is calm when he says, “Yes, because I killed her.”

Louis stills beside Harry, falling silent before finally, “ _What_?”

“I killed her because she got in my way and if you do the same, I’ll kill you too. Now tell me where your sisters are, so we can move on. If you hurry, I’ll even throw in gay rights for you. Just stop wasting my time,” Griffiths says dryly, picking at his nails as he watches them with minimal interest.

Harry decides he’s had enough and he can feel Louis’ fingers slipping from his hand so he lets go completely, stepping in front of Louis. “You are not going anywhere _near_ his sisters. Don’t delude yourself into thinking otherwise,” Harry informs steely before shouting, “ _Hleap on bæc_!” at the guards who immediately drop to the floor, unconscious.

Griffiths’ neutral expression falters for a second before he manages to recover. “You must be Harry then.”

That makes Harry pause, glancing up at Griffiths in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

In reply, Griffiths smiles sadistically. “It means I know who you are and let’s just say, you don’t meet the standards I have. Greatest sorcerer alive? That’s a joke. You’re not even twenty five years old. What experience could you have? I don’t know why they trusted you to teach the Princesses magic but I suppose that’s their mistake. In fact, it’s rather pathetic on their part and so are you.”

Then Harry sees the man reach in his pocket and automatically, he incants, “ _Fleoge seax forþ_ ,” and makes the handgun in Griffiths’ pocket fly across the room. Without missing a beat, Harry steps forward, muttering, “ _Acwele_ , _acwele, acwele, acwele_.”

The spell is meant to kill but Harry knows he can’t do that and so does his magic because while Griffiths does fall to the floor, unconscious, his chest still rises up and down slowly as he breathes.

Harry reaches into his pocket then, pulling his phone out with shaking hands and calling a number that he wishes he didn’t have to ever call.

Simon answers on the first ring. “Hello?”

“There’s—there’s been an attack. At the palace. Richard Griffiths is here and I don’t—I used a spell to that’s supposed to—he’s still alive. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. He has other people here; at least a dozen and they have guns and they’re looking for the girls. Louis is with me and I can’t just stay here with him, not when he can get hurt. I don’t know what to do at all. No one told me that this would happen, I didn’t _know_ —“ He’s getting hysterical now and Simon cuts him off on the other end.

“I’ll take care of it. Take Louis and get out,” Simon instructs carefully and Harry can already hear the man moving around on his side of the line. “You need to calm down, Harry. You can’t help him if you’re having a breakdown.”

“Okay,” Harry replies and then hangs up without saying anything else. He counts backwards from ten in his head and then turns back to Louis who’s staring at him blankly. “We have to go.”

When Louis doesn’t reply, Harry takes a deep breath before reaching out to grab Louis’ hand and then pulling him along as he heads down the hallway.

They reach the staircase Louis told him about in less than a minute and then Harry tries to let go of Louis’ hand only to realize that Louis is the one holding onto _him_.

He stares at their hands for a moment but then remembers the situation they’re in and hurries down the steps, hand in hand with Louis.

There’s about five cars in the garage that they’re in and Harry just grabs the first keys on the rack that’s hanging from the wall before pressing down on the button that unlocks the doors.

A plain black Porsche beeps in reply and Harry heads towards it, taking Louis with him. There, he opens the passenger seat first, helping Louis in and mumbling, “Louis, you need to let go so I can close the door,” while motioning towards their joint hands.

He hears another gunshot upstairs then and flinches, which breaks Louis out of his reverie and he snatches his hand back from Harry almost too quickly.

Harry frowns at him but doesn’t take time to ponder over what that means as he walks around the car and gets into the driver’s seat, putting the key into the ignition. Then he blinks at the closed garage door and sighs to himself.

Before he can do something like search the entire garage for a switch, Louis reaches out and presses a button on the stereo. It takes a moment but suddenly the door starts to lift and Harry murmurs, “Thanks,” before revving the engine.

There’s a path straight to the motorway from the garage and Harry drives along it but when he glances back towards the palace, he sees dozens upon dozens of cars in the front. He doesn’t stop to stare; just keeps driving until they get onto the motorway and he feels like he can breathe again.

Then he remembers that Louis _knows_ about him and he starts to feel dizzy so he takes the first exit he recognizes and moves onto the main road instead.

Louis hasn’t said a word to him since they left the palace and Harry starts to worry just as Louis quietly orders, “Pull over.”

Harry hesitates a moment before doing as Louis asks, parking next to an empty lot. He doesn’t expect for Louis to open the door and get out of the car but that’s what he does and after a moment, Harry pulls his own door open and follows after him.

“What are you doing?” Harry calls, jogging to catch up to Louis but he gets no reply. “Louis?”

When he catches up to Louis, he places a hand on his shoulder but the older man automatically recoils, pulling away from Harry. “Don’t touch me,” Louis hisses and there’s a burning in his eyes that Harry wishes he didn’t recognize.

“Louis, I—“ Harry starts, reaching for him again but Louis takes a step back before Harry can touch him.

“No, just stop. Stop talking, okay? I don’t want to hear it,” Louis snaps before he continues to walk across the empty lot.

Harry stares after him, unsure what to do but he ends up calling, “Louis, listen—“ and Louis turns back around, expression clearly showing that he’s furious.

“No, _you_ listen. I don’t want to fucking talk to you. You lied to me this entire time—everything was a lie. Every single fucking thing was a lie and you think you can just stand there and say ‘Louis’ and make it all better? No, you fucking _can’t_ ,” Louis suddenly shouts, breathing heavy.

Harry balks, mouth falling open before he shakes his head. “I didn’t—Louis, no, it wasn’t—it’s not like that,” he insists, taking a step closer only for Louis to take another step back.

“Then what was it like, Harry?” Louis laughs humorlessly. “What was this? A job for you? Are you even really a journalist?”

“Of course I’m a journalist, why would I lie about that?” Harry asks, appalled and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest as Louis glares at him with dark eyes.

“What haven’t you lied about?” Louis snaps back. “All this time… you have _magic_. You’ve lied to me all this time—the entire two months I’ve known you!”

“I didn’t—how was I supposed to tell you, Louis? Was I supposed to just go up to you and casually mention, ‘oh hey, by the way, I have magic’ like it was no big deal? It’s _not_ that simple!” Harry protests, voice raising to match Louis’.

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done! Not fucking lied to my face day after day,” Louis seethes, gritting his teeth and Harry flinches slightly because he knows what Louis is saying is true. “And what was that man saying about my sisters? They have magic too?”

Harry slumps his shoulders in defeat because he knows he can’t lie, not right to Louis’ face like this, not now. “Yes,” he admits, ducking his head and he hears Louis bitterly laugh in disbelief.

“My own sisters? They’ve had magic this entire time and they didn’t tell me? That’s fucking amazing!” Louis yells, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What else have I been lied to about? Oh wait, how about my own mother’s death! Did you know about that too, Harry?”

Immediately, Harry shakes his head, eyes wide. “ _No_ , I didn’t. I swear to you, I didn’t. Not until today.”

In reply, Louis smiles in a way that’s bittersweet. “Oh, you swear to me? Does that mean I can trust you now?” His voice is loud and mocking and it makes Harry want to bury himself.

He hates that Louis is looking at him like he’s a stranger—he hates it so much that it makes him want to cry and he has to blink back tears as he replies, “I didn’t lie to you to be spiteful, I was just trying to protect them. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Is that supposed to make it _better_? If you’d told me, I could’ve protected them. I’m the Prince of Wales, Harry, I think I can manage protecting my sisters,” Louis hisses, jaw clenched.

“Louis, it isn’t because of that,” Harry protests, shaking his head again. “I couldn’t—how could I tell you the truth about something that’s been hidden from you for years? I’m not—it’s not my place to tell you about it, I couldn’t just go ahead and—“

Louis cuts him off, voice steely as he says, “Right, of course. I mean, it’s not your responsibility after all! It’s not like you care about me anyways. What was I thinking? Silly me!”

Harry stares back distraught and he barely manages to get his mouth open to reply, “Of course I care about you, Louis! How could you ever think that I don’t? I didn’t—they _kill_ people like me, Louis. I couldn’t just go around telling people that not only am _I_ a sorcerer but so are all the princesses?”

That clearly isn’t the right thing to say because somehow, Louis’ expression become even colder. “They kill people that have magic? My sisters could be murdered at any time because they’re sorceresses but no one thought to fucking inform me?”

“No one kept you in the dark on purpose, Louis!” Harry exclaims, throwing his hands up. “It was to _protect_ them and you. The less you knew, the safer you were!”

“Well I’m plenty safe now, aren’t I? An assassination attempt in my own home?” Louis replies, lips curling in disgust and Harry turns away, blinking away tears again.

His magic is burning in his veins even now, a steady burn that makes everything that much worse. He has to count backwards again before he can turn to look at Louis who looks more disappointed now than anything else.

“You can say whatever you want but that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me about _everything_ ,” Louis informs and his voice sounds void of any emotion. “Do I even know you, Harry? Or was all of that a lie too?”

Harry shakes his head but he can’t make words come out past the lump in his throat.

“I thought I could trust you,” Louis says, voice quiet now and he’s staring at Harry with wide, unblinking blue eyes and all Harry can see is _hurt_ written across them. “For once in my life, I thought I could trust someone. I thought I could open up to them and that it would be okay, since they would be open with me back but it seems that I was wrong to think that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry tells him and he feels hot tears running down his cheeks now. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.”

“You weren’t even going to tell me,” Louis whispers. “You were going to leave and just never tell me the truth.”

Harry doesn’t bother to defend himself. Instead, he just reaches up and wipes his eyes but he sees Louis’ eyes tracking the motion of his wrist.

“Why did you get that?” Louis asks and the quieter his voice gets, the more Harry feels like he’s losing Louis right before his eyes. “I know you don’t love me so why did you get it? Was this all a game to you to you? Did you enjoy it so much that you were willing to get it tattooed onto you as proof?”

“That’s not why I got it,” Harry croaks out. “This wasn’t a game to me.” _I do love you. I love you so much it’s threatening to overtake me right now_.

“You’re something else, Harry Styles,” Louis breathes, shaking his head. “I hope you’re happy.”

Then Louis brushes right past him, walking back to the car and Harry turns to watch him go. He knows he could chase after him, try to explain things better but even from here, he can see the Queen’s letter in Louis’ back pocket and he knows that will explain things better than he could ever.

That’s why he just stands there and watches Louis get into the driver’s seat of the car. He hears the engine purr to life and he expects Louis to just drive off but then he doesn’t.

Instead, he waits and it takes five minutes for Harry to realize that he’s waiting for Harry because he doesn’t want to leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere.

It makes Harry’s heart drop to his stomach that even when Louis is _this_ mad at him, he’s still as caring as ever. Harry shakes his head, hoping Louis can see it and it seems he can because the engine revs and then the car pulls out before disappearing around the corner.

As soon as Louis’ car is gone, Harry sits down in the middle of the empty lot, ignoring the gravel pressing into his skin and pulling his phone out instead. He takes a moment to send a text before he puts his phone back and then he simply sits there, staring blankly at the gravel that’s in front of him.

When he hears a car pull up fifteen minutes later, he looks over to the side and a wave of relief comes over him.

Harry gets to his feet and walks to the car before sliding into the passenger seat and closing his eyes, resting his head against the back of his seat.

“So what happened?” Niall asks, squeezing Harry’s shoulder and Harry wishes the comforting touch helped but it doesn’t at all.

“Let's drive. Let's drive off a cliff,” he replies, not opening his eyes and he hears Niall hum quietly beside him but he doesn’t say anything so Harry continues, “Let's go. Let's do it. Drive—find a cliff—drive off the fucking cliff.”

“That bad?”

“Just drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All poems used in this section were Tyler Knott Gregson's!!! :)


	4. After

**After**

 

There’s a certain tranquility to sitting with Niall and stuffing his face with mint chocolate chip ice cream. Or at least, that’s what Harry tells himself.

“Haz, slow down, you’re going to choke,” Niall mutters, tugging Harry’s hand back. “The ice cream isn’t going anywhere.”

Harry doesn’t bother with a reply, just shoving another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth while he flickers through the channels with his eyes. He stops when he gets to some children’s show because at least that won’t remind him of how much he’s messed up.

He’s been home for a week but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Everything feels foreign and Harry hates it so much but he can’t do anything about it.

The only good news he’s gotten all week is from Simon of all people, telling him that they have Griffiths in captivity and they’re having elections right now for a new head of Parliament. He also smugly mentions he thinks it might end up being him.

Harry hangs up without responding.

Other than that, he’s gotten texts from both Felicite and Lottie ranging from a ‘ _wtf did you do?’_ to _harry ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS LETTER_ ’ to ‘ _you’re such a dumbass wtf im crying you idiot’_ to ‘ _if louis kills me I’m coming back to haunt your arse’_ to ‘ _you’re going to fix this. right. ???’_ to ‘ _you have a week before I skype you and make you see what you’ve done_ ’ and finally to ‘ _be online at 5 today or i’ll get someone to drive me and lotts to your aprmt choose wisely_ ’.

It’s currently ten minutes to five. He’s still eating ice cream.

He doesn’t argue when Niall takes his laptop and signs into skype for him even though he probably should. It’s mostly because he really wants to know how Louis’ doing but doesn’t know if he can ask the girls over a text message of all things.

At five as promised, he gets a call and Niall hits accept for him.

Lottie pops up onscreen and she takes one look at him before smacking her own forehead. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream? Really?”

“It’s his favorite,” Harry mumbles to himself and shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “Stop bullying me.”

“This is so sad,” Lottie states, scrubbing a hand over her face. “You and my brother are so pathetic.”

Harry scoffs defensively. “You’re just saying that because he yelled at you,” he accuses half-heartedly and Lottie sighs.

“Well he had every right to. It was wrong to hide our magic from for so long and we should’ve told him long before you came along. That’s our mistake, not yours so stop acting like you’re to blame, okay? Louis knows it’s not your fault,” Lottie tells him and Harry pulls a face, shoving more ice cream in his mouth. He doesn’t even like mint chocolate chip.

Lottie raises an eyebrow and finally Harry sighs, lowering his spoon to the carton. Niall holds his hands out beside him and he grudgingly passes it over. “He hates me,” Harry mumbles, lips curling down into a frown.

“No, he doesn’t and you know that. He loves you, Harry. That doesn’t just go away overnight,” Lottie reminds and Harry’s frown just deepens.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up because it’s not like it matters in the great scheme of things, does it? No matter what, he still can’t be with Louis whether it be for ethical reasons like his article or other reasons like the fact that Louis might hate him.

Someone from behind Lottie yells, “Is that Harry?” and then seconds later, Daisy is fitting her chin over Lottie’s shoulder and waving. “Harry! I think I’m supposed to be mad at you but I really just miss you.”

Harry makes a small, “Oh,” sound under his breath and then with great effort, his lips curl up just slightly as he mumbles, “I miss you too, Daisy.”

“Will you come visit us? We’re not allowed to go anywhere otherwise I would make Louis take us to visit you,” she informs with a bright grin that makes Harry reach for his ice cream again but Niall slaps away his hands instead.

“I—I don’t think I can,” Harry tells her, biting his bottom lip and her face falls.

He doesn’t know what he can say that would make her cheer up but it turns out that he won’t have to because she just sighs loudly and whispers something in Lottie’s ear before turning back to the camera. “Don’t act like a little kid, Harry. Face your fears,” she says with great gusto and then bursts into giggles before blowing him a kiss and running off.

“My life is at the point that an eleven year old is giving me advice,” Harry says to himself and Lottie shrugs, glancing off screen for a moment before looking back at him.

“I think anyone could offer you life advice right now and you’d have to accept it. You’re wearing a scarf with anchors and ropes, Harry. Who are you trying to kid?” she rolls her eyes and then turns the camera slightly just as Felicite comes into view.

“Oh, it’s my favorite idiotic Disney princess!” Felicite cheers, pumping a fist exaggeratedly before taking a seat next to Lottie. “Shouldn’t have bit that apple, Snow.”

“I’m not a princess,” Harry mumbles in protest but there’s no heat behind his words as he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

Beside him, Niall snorts and mutters, “Yeah, mate. You kind of are.”

Felicite smirks, giving him a pointed look before she turns to Lottie. “Has he asked about Louis yet?”

In reply, Lottie shakes her head, expression thoughtful. “I didn’t think he’d last this long but it’s been a whole ten minutes. I’m impressed with his strength.”

Harry pouts at the screen but inside, he knows that this skype session is the happiest he’s been all week. It’s more than sad than he’s spent most of the time in bed hiding his face underneath a pillow. Niall is a good friend for putting up with him in times like this.

“It’s none of my business anyways,” Harry mutters and Lottie sighs, dropping her head to the table.

“Boys are such idiots,” she tells Felicite who nods in agreement, pressing her lips together in a thin line as she glances back at the screen.

“If you’d just talk to him, you’d know he’s not that mad anymore. He read mum’s letter, after all. He knows you’re not at fault,” Felicite informs quietly, looking hopeful.

Harry hates that he has to wipe that look off her face as he shakes his head. “That doesn’t change anything, Felicite. I still lied and I still can’t be with him. It’s not that—”

Felicite cuts him off, an irritated expression on her face. “Not that simple, I know. You’ve said it about a million times. It’s not true though—it _is_ that simple. All you have to do is call my brother up and say, ‘Louis. I am an idiot. I love you. We can make this work,’ and then you kiss, you fuck and you live the rest of your lives in merriment. The end!” She raises her hands in exclamation for effect.

“What she said,” Lottie agrees and Harry makes a face at them.

“It’s really not that si—“

“Oh, shut up. I’m giving you another week before I send Louis off to your apartment to fix things. Don’t doubt me because I will do it and you will regret your life decisions,” Felicite warns before she glances off screen. “Well, it’s been nice speaking to you. Call my brother, okay? Thanks!”

The screen changes to the skype home screen and Harry stares at his laptop in bewilderment. “What just happened?” He asks Niall who shrugs in reply, stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

“You’re the one who said that they were strange,” he reminds with his mouth full and Harry sighs, nodding.

“Yeah, I did,” he agrees and he stares over at his laptop again, wondering why they hung up so abruptly. He wonders if Louis entered the room and thinks maybe that could be it.

Despite the girls’ words, he still feels like Louis might be mad at him. He can’t forget the burning that he saw in Louis’ eyes, the one that reminds him of a raging wildfire.

Everything Louis said was true. Harry did lie to him over and over, even when he knew he shouldn’t have. He could’ve told Louis about his own magic if not his sisters’ but Harry’s a coward and he didn’t so now he has to deal with the repercussions.

Harry wishes he could change this—change all of it. Most importantly though, he wishes that he wasn’t halfway across London with pieces of glass in his heart.

As it is, it’s just one of the things Harry has to deal with.

—

“Why are you sulking?”

Harry blinks in surprise and glances over at the doorway where Leigh is leaning against the frame, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not sulking,” he replies blankly before looking back down at his camera.

He hears Leigh sigh and then the clack of her heels as she walks into the room and takes a seat across from him. “I don’t know you that well Harry but I like to think I know you well enough from your article. There’s no way you’re usually this quiet and sad.”

“Yeah,” Harry says and then nothing else, still flickering through the photos. He passes by one where Louis is grinning at the camera, eyes crinkling in the corner and he feels a dull ache in his chest.

“Harry,” Leigh deadpans and then Harry doesn’t have time to react before she’s pulling the camera out of his hands and looking down at it.

“Hey,” Harry protests quietly but he feels too tired to even make a move to get it back and she glances up at him from her eyelashes, curiosity obvious in her expression.

“I thought things were going well with you and the Prince?” she asks quietly, handing the camera back. Harry just sets it on the table and doesn’t respond. “Did something happen?”

Finally, Leigh sighs again and gets up, brushing her dress off. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it but whatever it is, it’ll get better. I’m sure you guys can work it out,” she offers and Harry would give her a smile, but the muscles in his face refuse to work the way he wants.

It’s only when she’s halfway through the door that an idea strikes Harry and he leans forward, calling, “Leigh?”

She turns back around immediately, a growing smile on her face. “Yeah?”

He hesitates a moment before he decides this is probably his only chance to fix things. “Can you help me with something?”

Leigh closes the door behind her and walks back into the room, taking a seat once again. “I’d be happy to help, Harry. What are we doing?”

There’s something like hope blooming in Harry’s chest as he straightens his back and meets her eyes. “I think I need to make a few changes to my article.”

“Sounds like my area of expertise,” Leigh replies, grinning now. “Hit me, Styles.”

—

“ _[…] and during my stay with [the Royal family], I learned many things. I learned about Charlotte’s affinity for dancing, Felicite’s favorite books, Daisy’s tendency to call dibs and Phoebe’s love for Disney films. […] I learned the most about Prince Louis though. There are so many things about him that I still can’t believe I got the chance to know but somewhere along the way… I fell in love with all of those things. That’s right—fell in love. There are people who believe that Louis shouldn’t be king because of **who he is** but through getting to know him, I ended up falling in love which says a lot more about the Prince than it does about me. _

_Louis’ personality is one that few people will grow to understand and I’m lucky to be one of the people who was granted the opportunity. [Everyone] has their faults but somehow, Louis’ flaws seem to make him that much better. Not perfect, but better. I’m sure I sound ridiculous but the facts are that Louis has the kindest and most beautiful soul I’ve ever gotten to know. He is strong and he is brave. His strength lies in his bravery—lies in the way that he pushes through and never stops fighting for what he believes in. I’ve never met someone who is so completely selfless and **pure** in every sense of the word. I didn’t mean to fall in love but no one means to fall in love, do they? It’s impossible to not fall in love with him though. Louis is similar to the sun in the sense that everyone else revolves around him. _

_[He] has a presence that’s unmistakable and it’s easy to pick him out of a crowd. He is a natural born leader and it never fails to surprise me that there are people in this world who fail to see that. Louis does not lack in leadership skills—he does not lack what it takes to show people to be true to themselves. He inspires the good in those around him and I will admit, I am often a coward. I am a coward but Louis makes me want to be fearless and I think that’s the thing about Louis. He pushes you to face your fears and he makes you want to be better._

_As we all know, the Parliament is truly in charge of all government affairs but Louis is the face of the nation and there is no one better to represent it than he is. Not to mention, he does have a very aesthetically pleasing face—which, yes, isn’t exactly the point. The point is that Louis Tomlinson is the type of man people fall in love with and it seems, I sort into that category. I think we should all move past who Louis loves, be it man or woman since that does not define who he is as a person. No, the characteristics that we should use to define Louis are brave, selfless, kind, compassionate, witty, intelligent and patient._

_We should all aim to be as wonderful a person as Louis Tomlinson and never define someone by their sexuality—never factor that in for whether they are worthy or not. There is not a man more worthy of taking the crown than Louis Tomlinson and to know that is a personal honor. I may have fallen in love with him on the way of knowing but I am proud of that and I wouldn’t change a thing. However, I do hope reading this article, changes everyone else’s minds about just how worthy he is […]_ ”

—

When Simon bursts into his office, Harry worries that maybe his article isn’t going to be approved anymore with the new section that he added but instead, Simon is grinning like he won the lottery.

It’s a bit unnerving.

“Your article—I love it,” Simon informs as soon as he walks in, taking a seat and he’s still grinning. Harry wishes Simon would stop because it makes his hair stand on end.

“I’m—er, glad?” Harry replies, unsure and Simon _laughs_. Harry’s day is becoming stranger and stranger as the seconds pass by.

“We elected a new head,” Simon says then, leaning forward to rest his arms on Harry’s desk. “It’s not me but it’s a very close friend of mine. With your article and Walsh in charge, I can almost guarantee that Louis will become king in a month, give or take.”

Harry’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open in surprise. “Really?”

“Your destiny prevailed, young warlock,” Simon replies smugly. “Just as I said it would.”

Speechless, Harry just nods along. There’s a million thoughts running through his head but mostly important— _I did it. I did it. I did it. Louis did it. We did it_. Everything feels warm and fuzzy in a way it hasn’t for a while, and for once Harry feels like he did something right.

“Well go on,” Simon urges, gesturing towards Harry’s phone that’s lying on the table next to a framed picture of him and Louis. “Tell your boyfriend!”

That puts a dent in his mood almost immediately and he shrugs his shoulders, face solemn as he mumbles, “He’s not my boyfriend. I can’t call him.”

Simon raises an eyebrow and pointedly glances at the photo on Harry’s desk before looking back at him. “You’re lying,” he accuses, voice colored in disbelief.

“I don’t think I’ll be lying to anyone for a long time,” Harry replies bitterly and crosses his arms. “Louis will find out by himself, won’t he? I don’t need to tell him.”

The older man blinks at him in bewilderment before shaking his head abruptly. “Hold on—but your article? You said you were—?”

“I am,” Harry interrupts because hearing the words out loud only makes it worse. “But I can’t be with him. That isn’t how it works.”

Now Simon is squinting in confusion and he glances over at the photo one more time. “I’m not sure I understand, Harry. Why can’t you be with him?”

This time, it’s Harry’s turn to blink at him, baffled. “Isn’t it against the rules?” he asks slowly and his magic simmers under his skin, a light burning that tells him something important is going to happen.

It seems Simon can tell too because he lifts a pointed eyebrow. “The rules don’t apply to you, Harry. I thought you realized that a long time ago.”

“What do _mean_ the rules don’t apply to me?” Harry repeats, eyes wide in disbelief. “Wouldn’t it be bias to my article if I was dating Louis?”

Simon’s expression is perplexed as he shakes his head again. “Harry, what are you talking about? If you were dating Louis, that would be even better press for your article! Not to mention, you two are fated to be with one another…”

“Fated to be with—what?” Harry splutters, lips parting in surprise. “What are _you_ talking about?”

“Harry!” Simon exclaims, voice raising to a skeptical shout. “I told you that you and Louis were two sides of the same coin. Two halves of a whole. What the hell did you think I was talking about?”

“I thought you were speaking in riddles!” Harry argues and his brain is working double its usual rate as it tries to accept what Simon is saying. “Louis and I are soulmates?”

The look Simon gives him is one that’s the mixture of outrage and incredulity. “Harry, I’m going to _fire_ you if you don’t leave right now and fix this,” he threatens, looking seconds from physically hitting Harry in the chest.

“But—” Harry protests, mainly because he thinks his heart is about to give out on him or he even that might just explode into golden specks.

Simon just glares and points towards the door. “Don’t even think about coming back to work if your name isn’t Harry Tomlinson. Get out of my sight.”

“Mr. Cowell, I can’t just—”

“ _Go_.”

Harry hesitates only a second before grabbing his phone off the table and shoving it in his pocket before running out of the room, only stopping to shut the door behind him.

He honestly doesn’t know what to think—the entire time that he’s been worrying over the fact that he and Louis can’t be together, his boss _wanted_ him and Louis to be together. None of it even remotely makes sense and Harry knows that all of this is absurd but Simon’s face when he ordered Harry out wasn’t one of a joking manner.

There’s a part of him that’s close to exploding in glee but a bigger part of him is terrified because now that there’s a chance that everything he wants can happen, a chance that he can make everything _work_ , it feels like it’s all going to come apart in shambles.

His phone buzzes in his hands then and when he glances down at it, there’s a text from Lottie. All it says is _1 day_ and it feels like a promise now, rather than a threat.

—

“You can’t leave,” Harry protests weakly, trying to stop Niall from walking out the door. “I need you to stay here and be my back up.”

Niall turns to him with a resigned look and then grips his shoulders tightly. “I told you this once and I’ll tell you it again. Stop being a pussy,” he deadpans and Harry would laugh at how serious he’s being if he weren’t panicking.

“I can’t do this,” Harry insists, shaking his head. “He hates me.”

With a sigh, Niall drops his hands and shakes his head. “You are such a lost cause,” he mutters. “I would stay because I feel bad but Barbara is waiting, so sorry.” He doesn’t seem apologetic at all though.

“Take me with you,” Harry says in a last ditch effort. “I’d love to meet her!”

The dry look Niall gives him clearly states Harry isn’t meeting anyone aside from Louis today. “If I find out that you fucked this up too, I’m going to call Gemma and we’re going to bury you where no one will find you,” Niall threatens, waggling a melodramatic finger. “Fix this.”

Then he walks out of the flat without another word and Harry pouts after him. “Why does everyone keep saying _that_?”

Harry doesn’t get a reply.

From that point, it’s just a matter of waiting and seeing whether Felicite and Lottie are actually going to come through on their threat.

He ends up passing the time by doodling on his journal opposed to in it. At some point, he writes _one and only_ along the spine and has to blink several times in disbelief at his own words.

What’s sad is that he thinks _one and only_ might actually apply to Louis.

As he’s thinking that, the bell rings and Harry drops the book without much thought as he turns a panicked stare onto the closed door.

He doesn’t make a move to get it and only manages to shock out of his reverie when the doorbell rings once again.

Harry falters for a second but then after taking a deep breath, he gets off the couch and walks to the door. He has to take one more breath before he unlocks it and pulls it open.

Seeing Louis after a week hits him like a train.

Standing there almost timidly, Louis offers the tiniest quirk of his lips before tilting his head. “Can I come in?” he asks quietly and Harry blinks a few times to make sure Louis’ really there before nodding, moving aside so Louis can step through and then shutting the door behind him.

“You have a really nice flat. How long have you—“ Louis starts to ask quietly, stepping further into the hallway when Harry cuts him off.

“I’m sorry.”

Louis turns around slowly, meeting his eyes and there’s a cautious look on his face. “You’re sorry?” he repeats, almost hesitantly.

Harry nods, taking a step closer to him, biting his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and I know now it was wrong. I’m not—I’m not nearly a good person as you are. I should’ve told you a long time ago and I only prolonged the inevitable. I’m sorry for lying to you over and over again when you deserved to know the truth. I wish I could fix it but I can’t so I just hope you can accept my apology,” he says, ducking his head and he hears Louis release a quiet breath in front of him.

“I read the letter that my mum left… It talks about you,” Louis replies after a moment, voice quiet.

When Louis doesn’t say anything else, Harry glances up and sees Louis watching him with uncertainty. “So I hear,” Harry replies weakly, pinching his thigh lightly.

“The girls explained the situation to me too,” Louis offers, still quiet. “They told me you encouraged them to tell me.”

Harry swallows nervously before nodding again. “They’re—they _were_ really alone. It isn’t supposed to be like that. My entire family knows about me but I suppose that’s mostly because Gemma also has magic but it’s like—the people closest to you should know. It’s all a bit overwhelming sometimes and it’s good to have people who will remind you who are you and keep you grounded,” Harry says and pointedly doesn’t glance down at his anchor tattoo. “I wish that you had the chance to be one of those people for the girls.”

“I—I will now,” Louis replies, wrapping his arms around himself. “For as long as they need me, I’ll be there for them.”

“I’m glad,” Harry says and then casts Louis an unsure look. “I really am sorry though for not telling you. It wasn’t my secret to tell but I should have thought of the girls’ safety before anything else and I know you want nothing but the best for them. I’m sorry.”

Louis blinks at him owlishly before he nods once. “I know,” he murmurs and then bites his bottom lip, staring up at Harry through his eyelashes. “I was really mad at you.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply but then falters before repeating, “Was?” a bit too hopefully.

“Was,” Louis confirms, still staring up at him. “It’s—yeah, you lied to me but I guess I understand why you did it. It must’ve been a really hard situation to be in.”

In reply, Harry takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “That’s not an excuse though. I could’ve been less of a coward.”

“Bravery is a hard thing to come by,” Louis mumbles and then glances down at his shoes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Harry replies almost immediately, a bit desperately even. He hopes Louis doesn’t see it that way.

Louis doesn’t look up but he does ask, “Did you—was it all a lie? Everything that happened?”

It takes a moment for Harry to understand and he shakes his head again, just barely. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly and then hesitates before continuing, “One part of it was a lie though.”

Finally Louis looks up and he’s frowning quizzically. “Which part of it was a lie?” he wonders and his voice cracks halfway through, making Harry wince.

Harry knows what he has to say to fix things and just thinking of saying it terrifies him—but he’s not going to let that stop him. For the first time in a long time, he’s not going be a coward.

“When I told you that I could never love you,” Harry replies in one breath and doesn’t wait to see Louis’ reaction before he keeps speaking. “That was a lie. I loved you long before that.”

He hears Louis inhale sharply and when he looks up, Louis is watching him with a bewildered expression. “You loved me?” Louis breathes, just a hint of skepticism present.

“Love,” Harry corrects simply. “I love you.”

“You love me,” Louis says, but this time it’s a statement of wonder.

“I do,” he agrees. “And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I thought it would be best for you if we weren’t together.”

Louis’ lips part in surprise and then Harry has a second before the older man mutters, “Harry, you bloody _poltroon_ ,” in what sounds to be French and then strides forward and kisses him.

Harry’s confused for a second but then as soon as he understands what’s happening, he presses closer and kisses back, tilting his head slightly. He hasn’t felt Louis’ mouth against his in two weeks and it almost feels like he can breathe again.

When Louis pulls away, Harry waits half a second before asking, “Can I take that as you love me too?” and Louis laughs incredulously before pulling him in for another kiss.

There’s a lot they need to talk about—a lot they need to figure out and discuss and Harry has a lot to explain but right now, in this moment, Harry knows it’s going to be okay and he thinks that’s all the reassurance he’s ever going to need.

—

“Louis, I think we’re good—“

“Just stay _still_ ,” Louis instructs, cutting Harry off and tucking another curl into the scarf wrapped around his head. “You keep fidgeting and it’s throwing me off.”

“Well, considering it’s your—“

“Harry Edward Styles, if you say it, I’m going to gag you with this scarf,” Louis threatens darkly and Harry rolls his eyes, even though he’s really stifling a giggle on the inside.

They have five minutes before they really need to go and apparently, fixing Harry’s outfit calms Louis down so he isn’t going to begrudge him of that. At the same time, he really doesn’t want Louis to be late.

Louis is nervous. It’s pretty obvious in the way his fingers keep fluttering around Harry’s head, unsure and the way he keeps bouncing on his toes, making circles around Harry.

It’s August and Harry has a scarf the color of Louis’ eyes woven through his curls.

“We really are going to be late, Lou,” Harry mumbles quietly and Louis heaves a sigh before dropping his hands at his sides.

“I suppose we should go then, shouldn’t we?” he asks and Harry nods, smiling. “You’re sure you can’t just use your magic to slow down time and give me five more minutes?”

Harry does giggle this time and he shakes his head, lightly shoving Louis in the chest. “Not a chance. Come on, they’re waiting for you.”

“Let them wait,” Louis grumbles but then he straightens his tie and runs a hand through his hair. At the last second, he holds his arm out then and smiles nervously back at Harry. “Shall we?”

“Of course, your Highness,” Harry replies and loops his arm through Louis’ without a second thought.

They’re in a good place, the two of them.

It took a while to get where they are but they made it—it took hours after hours of explaining and a few tears shed and a few slammed doors but they pushed through it and now they’re here and they’re happy.

Harry follows Louis to a set of double doors where there are guards on either side who start to open the doors as soon as they see them. Beside him, Louis takes a deep breath and Harry squeezes his wrist lightly, assuring him that he’s right there and Louis presses a quick kiss on his cheek just as the flashes of cameras start to go off.

Louis straightens his shoulders and right before his eyes, Harry watches Louis go from anxious to confident, waving with his free hand.

There are hundreds of people present and Harry can actually recognize a few of them after having to watch Liam drill their names into Louis’ brain.

They stop a few times so that Louis can have a short conversation with person or two but never for long and Harry doesn’t dare open his mouth for fear of saying stupid.

He can feel people’s eyes on him though and he knows how important it is for Louis to be received well today of all days so when he catches other people’s eyes, he simply offers them a bright smile.

That seems to shock them a bit and it leaves Harry feeling satisfied, content with the fact that all it takes is a smile for people to stop staring at him like’s an alien of some sort.

Zayn comes up to them after a while and he leans in close to whisper in Harry’s ear while Louis speaks to an elderly man, “How is he doing?”

“Good,” Harry murmurs back, glancing over at Louis who’s laughing brightly now. “Better than I thought. Teaches me to never underestimate Louis Tomlinson though, doesn’t it?”

In reply, Zayn snorts and claps a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll leave him in your hands then. Tell him the ceremony starts in ten minutes.”

“Will do,” Harry agrees and then turns back to Louis who’s watching him with a fond expression. Harry blinks and glances behind him to see if Zayn is still there but he’s gone. “What?”

“I love you,” Louis answers simply.

Harry flushes and above them, a light flickers.

Louis smirks in front of him and shakes his head. “You’re so ridiculous,” He says and then reaches for Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. “I really, really love you.”

“I really, really love you too,” Harry replies, cheeks burning. “A whole bunch.”

“A whole bunch?” Louis quotes, voice teasing. “That’s a lot.”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles and Louis laughs brightly in response. “The ceremony starts in ten minutes. You’re going to make us late.”

“You’re worth it,” Louis informs and then smiles, eyes crinkling. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, darling. We won’t be late, I promise.”

They’re late.

Harry wants to swat Louis’ arm and mutter, “I told you so,” but refrains if only because he thinks his boyfriend might start hyperventilating.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry reassures, leaning his forehead against Louis’. “You made it this far, you can make it another twenty minutes.”

Louis makes a pitiful noise in return which would worry Harry if he weren’t completely sure that in a minute, Louis would walk out there with a confident grin.

“Look at me,” Harry instructs quietly. “Louis, come on, look at me.”

It takes a little coaxing but eventually Louis meets his eyes and Harry slowly and deliberately says, “You’re going to go out there and you’re going to rock everyone’s socks off.”

That makes Louis snort and he shakes his head. “Rock everyone’s socks off?”

“Rock everyone’s socks off,” Harry confirms without missing a beat. “If anything, I’ll set a curtain on fire if you need it. You won’t need it, but just in case, I have your back.”

Louis takes a deep breath before mumbling, “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry says and then takes a step back. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Louis replies, voice shaky and Harry reaches out to squeeze his hand once before gently nudging him towards the stage.

In the time it takes for Louis to walk towards the stage, Harry falls in love with him all over again just like he does every second of every day.

He barely hears anything after that, too busy focusing on Louis’ smile and the curve of his shoulders that when the man beside Louis announces, “Presenting, his Royal Highness, Louis William Tomlinson, King of England,” he nearly falls over.

The man places the crown on Louis’ head and Harry feels a surge of affection run through him as he realizes that all his hard work paid off—all of _Louis_ ’ hard work paid off. They pulled through and they made it here, right now to this point.

In the grand scheme of things, Harry thinks that maybe falling in love with Louis was the best thing he ever did. That or setting a curtain on fire when Louis asks him ten minutes later. Either works.

 

**Epilogue**

 

“No, you put it like—no, this bit goes in there I think. Niall, the other bit goes over the top—I give up,” Harry announces and drops his bags before sitting on top of them.

He can hear Louis laughing at him and when he turns to look, his boyfriend flashes him a thumbs up that does nothing to help Harry’s current situation so he sticks his tongue out petulantly in reply.

Glancing over at Liam is even worse because he’s completely done with setting up his tent and Harry can vaguely hear Louis incredulously say, “Liam’s nearly clocked it in about five minutes!” to Zayn who smiles over fondly.

Harry scowls and in the back of his mind, he thinks maybe he shouldn’t have said they don’t need the instructions because clearly they do.

Finally, Harry decides this isn’t even worth the effort Niall is pretending to put into it so after a quick glance around to make sure no strangers are watching, his eyes flicker gold and the tent sets itself up.

“Oi, I saw that!” Louis calls and Harry shrugs, face flushing red as he pointedly looks away and lowers himself to the ground instead.

“You saw nothing!” Harry shouts back without looking up and Niall snorts in front of him.

They’re at Leeds festival and Harry is about to burst at the seams with giddiness. The last time he got to go to Leeds festival was a few years back with Louis but this time, it’s all five of them and it’s for Liam’s twenty-sixth birthday.

Harry knows Liam and Zayn are going to disappear the first chance they get and Niall soon after them as soon as Barbara arrives but in the meantime, it’s the five of them and they have three tents to set up.

Liam has gone off to work on Niall’s tent now and Zayn is sitting on the ground near him, a notepad in his hands. Niall’s digging through the icebox, trying to find a beer and Louis is nowhere to be seen.

Well, until Harry has hands covering his eyes and a voice whispering, “Boo!” in his ear.

Harry giggles before reaching up to intertwine his fingers with Louis’ and pull his hands down. “You’re not scary, Lou.”

Louis hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder before pressing a chaste kiss to Harry’s already flushing cheeks. “Not trying to be,” he informs and then snaps his teeth at Harry playfully.

In reply, Harry twists his head and kisses him softly, pressing as close as he can and Louis tilts his head so Harry can reach easier.

They’re still kissing when someone clears their throat above them and Harry sighs into Louis’ mouth before pulling away.

Louis is the one that speaks, snapping, “Can we help you?” while glaring. Harry covers his mouth to stop from giggling again.

Niall simply shrugs and passes them both a can of beer. “So hostile,” he mutters as he walks back towards the icebox but Harry can hear the fondness in his voice.

For good measure, Harry calls, “I love you!” after him and gets a middle finger in reply which makes him grin brightly.

When he turns to Louis, he’s pouting in mocking manner and Harry already knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “And I love you too,” he reassures, brushing their noses together.

He’s about to lean in again when Liam shouts, “Where the hell did the hammer go?” and Louis start to laugh beside Harry.

“You’re awful,” Harry scolds but he’s pretty sure that his eyes are glowing—and not in the magical sense.

“And you adore it,” Louis replies without missing a beat and then gets to his feet, letting go of Harry’s hands only after squeezing them once. “Listen, forget what they taught you in boy scouts, Payno! We’re doing this the Tommo way!”

Harry can only watch Louis as he runs over to Liam who’s deadpanning him with a blank look. He doesn’t really listen to what happens after that but at some point, Zayn comes over and sits on the ground beside him.

From what Harry can see, Zayn’s doing a very accurate sketch of Liam and Harry already knows that Liam is going to frame it. “Is that for his birthday?” Harry asks quietly, nudging Zayn with his shoulder.

Zayn shakes his head, giving the sketch a considering look. “Got something else for that. I just like to draw him. He’s got nice shoulders.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. “Whatever you say, mate.”

“It’s true,” Zayn argues without glancing up. “My husband has the best shoulders you’ll ever see.”

“Well Louis has the best arse,” Harry protests lightly and there’s a beat of silence before Zayn nods seriously and Harry laughs again.

At some point, Zayn and Liam stopped being just Louis’ friends and ended up Harry’s friends too. In fact, he likes to think he’s gotten to the point they’d even consider him as a best friend.

Same goes for Niall, of course. It’s no surprise that all the lads love him—it’s hard not to.

Harry likes where his life is at right now. He’s beyond happy and so is everyone around him which is more than he could ever ask for.

Louis’ sisters have nearly completely mastered their magic, running around the palace performing spells just for the fun of it and also because they like prank Louis. Sometimes, Harry even joins them.

Looking back, everything has been worth it. The journey might not have been a walk in the park and there might’ve been one or two huge fights in the past three years he’s spent with Louis, but in the end it always worked out and even now, Harry knows they will always work through it because it’s worth it and _they_ are worth it.

He thinks the first time he knew for a fact that it would all be worth it was the day Louis read his article.

If not then, maybe the time Louis came home with a compass tattoo twenty four hours after Harry’s ship tattoo, saying that he would help Harry find his way back to home, find his way back to _him_ no matter what.

Not to mention that there’s the time that Louis wrote him a song called _Strong_ and played it for him on the piano over and over, as many times as Harry asked.

There’s just too many moments to even count and Harry thinks that’s because _every_ moment shows him that all the effort they both put in was worth it.

Even now, he knows it’s worth it as Louis catches his eye and winks, mouthing _I love you_ and Harry’s cheeks dimple as he mouths the words back at him.

The bands aren’t set to perform for another two hours—they got there early to set up and now Harry knows they’ll just be sitting around, doing absolutely nothing.

“Hey, Zayn?” Harry mumbles, nudging his shoulder again and Zayn hums without looking up. “Can I get a piece of paper?”

Zayn stops drawing and flips the page so he can rip out the one after it. “You’re just going to write a poem on it, aren’t you?” He asks, resuming his drawing.

Harry shrugs and doesn’t reply, just grabbing the pencil tucked behind Zayn’s ear. Of course, the tanner man doesn’t even flinch and Harry likes to think that’s an accomplishment on his part.

_a moment of love / a dream / a laugh / a kiss / a cry / our rights / our wrongs / a moment of love / so stay there / 'cause I'll be coming over / while our blood's still young / it's so young, it runs / won't stop 'til it's over / won't stop to surrender._

Then Harry falters, glancing over at Louis who’s laughing brightly as Liam sighs, a forlorn expression on his face and decides that he needs to change his poem.

 _*won’t stop ‘till we surrender_.

He smiles contentedly and folds the paper up before putting it in his back pocket.

“Lou!” Harry calls, getting to his feet and Louis looks over with a curious expression. “I think The 1975 are playing all the way across the field. Come with me?”

Louis smiles in a way Harry is accustomed to and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue but he still stops irritating Liam (who shoots him a grateful look) to walk over to him. “Babe, you’re never going to meet Matt. It’s not going to happen.”

Harry pouts and mutters, “We’ll see about that,” before turning on his heel and walking away. He hears Louis laugh behind him and then suddenly there’s fingers intertwined with his own.

“If we get mobbed, I’m revoking all sex privileges,” Louis threatens quietly, lips brushing against his ear and Harry has to refrain from shivering before nodding.

—

He doesn’t meet Matt Healy. He also doesn’t get mobbed.

At least he and Louis can still fuck in their tent. They’ll probably give Niall post-traumatic stress disorder in the process—it’s a win in his boyfriend’s eyes, so Harry will accept it as a win in his own too.

“Haz, you’re going to make us fall over,” Louis says and Harry sighs but begrudgingly sits up straighter. They’re back at their tents, around a makeshift bonfire which Harry isn’t sure is technically allowed but Louis is the King of England. There are _some_ perks to it.

“Can I just sit in your lap instead? Barbara’s doing it,” Harry mutters, pointedly glaring the couple who are whispering to each other quietly, the occasional giggle interrupting the silence.

Louis rolls his eyes and then Harry feels the older man’s arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer. “How about you sit right here and later you can ride me until your thighs are shaking?” He suggests instead and Harry groans, dropping his head onto Louis’ shoulder.

“Stop teasing me, you’ve been doing it _all_ day,” Harry complains halfheartedly, lightly biting down on Louis’ shoulder. “Why are you so mean to me?”

That makes Louis snort and he pinches Harry’s waist lightly, making him start. “It’s because I love you and your shirt has been half unbuttoned for the last five hours.”

“It can be all the way unbuttoned if you’d like,” Harry replies eagerly and his boyfriend gives him a considering look before shaking his head.

“Later,” he promises before one of his arms lets go of Harry to grab the bag of marshmallows. “Are you really allergic to these?”

Harry scowls and moves away from Louis, crossing his arms. “If you’re just going to make fun of me—“ he starts to protest but he’s cut off by lips pressed against his own and hands on either side of his face.

“I love you,” Louis says between kisses, “So fucking much.” Another kiss. “And I wish I could tell you.” One more kiss. “Every second of every day.”

In return, Harry pulls away, brushing his nose against Louis’. “You’re still mean but I love you too. Just as much.”

“I’m glad,” Louis mumbles and then he smiles. “Come back to mine?”

“You mean the tent?” Harry asks, giggling. Louis might be the silliest person he’s ever met. “ _Our_ tent?”

Of course, Louis doesn’t even reply. Instead, he just waggles his eyebrows and stands up before going to the tent. Harry waits a moment before following after him.

The tent comes crashing down on them halfway. Harry is grateful for his magic. Also, for Louis’ dick. It might be magical. The theory has yet to be tested.

In the past three years, every fiber of Harry’s being has come to love Louis. There is not a single part of him that doesn’t love Louis, love his eyelashes, his nose, his hands, his knees, his eyes, his hair, his (smelly) feet, his _everything_. All of him loves all of Louis.

Not a day goes by that Harry doesn’t know that and he wishes he knew how it happened but at the end of the day, he knows it doesn’t matter.

Maybe Simon is right and they’re fated to be but maybe it’s just Harry and it’s just Louis and somehow in this crazy world, they managed to find each other at the right time and right place.

As it turns out, Harry doesn’t really care because he has Louis and Louis has him. That’s all they really need.

Harry knows this when he’s watching Louis sleep the next morning and he knows this when he helps Liam find breakfast for all of them. He knows it when Louis comes out of the tent, rubbing his eyes and he knows it when Louis immediately finds him and curls up against him. He knows it when they sing along to the songs they know and he knows it when they drink beer, swinging their arms between them.

He knows it when Louis gets down on one knee right there in the middle of the festival when there’s no one around, saying, “Harry, I’ve known you for what feels like my entire life. Actually, it might as well be because I don’t know if I was ever living before I met you. You’re—you’re _everything_ , Harry. You’re the anchor to my rope, the ship to my compass, the heart to my arrow, my other half. I don’t know if I can explain it to you but you’re so wonderful—you have such a kind soul and I don’t know why but it makes you happy to make other people happy. You’re so strong and brave. You’re my lionheart. You know, I didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as I love you but somehow it is and somehow I do. I love you so fucking much I can’t even explain it because words aren’t good enough. So I want to show you, every day for the rest of our lives, I want to show you how much I love you. I want it to be you and me, every day, whether it rains or shines, I want it to be us. _You’re_ all I want, so much it’s hurting. I see myself doing so many things in the future but I don’t see any of those things without by my side, helping me along the way. I don’t see a future that doesn’t have you in it. You came into my life and you made it so I couldn’t live the rest of it without you. Christ, you make me want to learn poetry and play the piano and sing songs and dance like no one’s watching. You make me want to be fearless and that’s so _strange_ for me. I spent so much of my life hiding and being scared but being with you—being free? It feels almost surreal. What you and I have makes me feel free. I don’t know if you remember—I don’t even know why _I_ remember, but one of the first days we met I told you that you remind me of a bird. You do. You remind me that birds are caged sometimes but that they can be free too. That they can fly and soar and do fucking cartwheels if they want. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore because this isn’t what I had planned but I guess I’m just winging it now and _god_ , don’t make the pun. Even if you did though, I’d still love you. Hell, I’d even love you more. It’s the facts that you make stupid jokes that reminds me why I love you. You’re so quirky and it’s one of my favorite things about you. You’re crying now—shit, okay, let’s just—will you marry me, Harry Styles? Will you spend the rest of forever with me?”

Harry knows it when he says yes and he knows it when Louis slips a thin golden band onto his finger. He knows it when they kiss and he knows it when Louis wipes the tears running down his face. He knows it when lightning strikes because he can’t control his magic and it starts pouring rain and people start screaming in distress. He knows it when he wears his Leeds bracelet for a year after that even though he has to tape it up and he still knows it when he can’t wear it anymore because it’s too destroyed.

Mostly importantly, Harry knows it every second of the forever he spends with Louis Tomlinson and frankly, that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii, thank you for making it this far! 
> 
> Anyways, so... there’s so many people to thank for this mess so let me start by saying thank you to my beta Holly for being wonderful as always and being the other half of my dream team. Not to mention, thank you to Lila for being the loveliest and helping me out with the whole British aspect of it! 
> 
> An extended thank you to Nina and Sara who are the sweetest best friends in the entire world for offering me their differing opinions on the end as well as their endless support. Also thank you to Zahra and Emily for actually getting me to write this stupid thing by sprinting with me and thank you so much to Ivana for being the best cheerleader I could ever ask for and constantly checking up on me and offering me ideas. A final thank you to Akvinder for watching episode after episode of Merlin with me until the middle of the night for several days as I tried to figure out the plot for this fic and then helping me the entire way through.
> 
> Inaccuracies!!!!!!! Inaccuracies galore!!!!!!!!!!! I tried my best to become informed on the royal family (which as I said, the lovely Lila aided me in, she's wonderful) but a lot of the things I researched did not fit well with the plot of this fic and also equal rights such as ~marriage for everyone~ was legalized (woo!) in the UK a few months ago so like I said !!!inaccuracies!!! If you come to me yelling about said inaccuracies I will have nothing to say to you because I warned you about the inaccuracies before! I also know nothing about the British government/parliament!!! Inaccuracies!!! Did I mention there were inaccuracies? That is all.
> 
> I really hope you all like it and that this isn't TOO awful. I worked really hard and if you have anything bad to say, please be civil about it and not needlessly cruel. Thank you so much. :)
> 
> Sorry for the ~long author's note but let me just end it off saying that kudos and comments make me really happy and I worked really hard on this fic so please don't be unnecessarily rude :)
> 
> My tumblr is [lourrynavy](http://lourrynavy.tumblr.com) and my twitter is [deepestIove](http://twitter.com/deepestIove) if you want to drop by and say hi!!!


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